


Untouchable

by Blu3sc0rpion



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, BDSM, Blood and Injury, Bondage, Childhood Trauma, Choking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, First Time Bottoming, Flogging, Force Visions, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, M/M, Male Slash, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, Past Child Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Confusion, Sexual Violence, Sith Holocron, Sith Possession, Sith Rituals, Subspace, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2019-11-26 07:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 126,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18177863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blu3sc0rpion/pseuds/Blu3sc0rpion
Summary: A mission on Kraysiss-Two takes a turn for the worse. Ancient Sith designs work against both Obi-wan and Anakin as they desperately try to find a way off world. In the throes of confusion their relationship begins to spiral. They might be able to escape, but can they ever truly be rescued?





	1. Arrival

“How long before we reach our destination, Master?” Anakin asked impatiently, pacing the small strip of worn down carpet between the isles of seating. It was all empty, aside Anakin and his Master, Obi-wan Kenobi.

“Patience my young apprentice, we’ll arrive soon enough.” Obi-wan gently reprimanded while silently probing for any hint as to why he might have been so troubled. Asking didn’t always yield the best results. Anakin’s emotions were often turbulent, such as they were now. They swirled about him in conflicting drifts of frustration and anxiety. The roots of which he rarely spoke of. Teaching the boy had proven to be a difficult task to say the least. 

Obi-wan knew when he took on Anakin as his padawan that they were never going to have the typical student-teacher relationship that most others in the temple had experienced. Anakin was different, not from the temple. He remembered his mother. He had endured a terrible childhood at the hands of slavers and the like. Going through such things had muddled the young man’s heart with attachments and pain.

And it was all understandable. Obi-wan only wished Anakin would open up more about his troubles. Though as he had aged into his late teen years, he only seemed to retreat more into himself rather than seek the help of his Master. Often times Obi-wan was left wondering if he was doing something wrong. There was always the lingering feeling that he wasn’t enough for Anakin. That the boy needed something more. Something more than what he was capable of giving at all. 

But Anakin wasn’t about to let him in, not like Obi-wan wished he would. So he stood at a distance giving Anakin the room he thought he needed. It was the gist of their relationship ever since the beginning. Though admittedly in those first years the distance was mostly born from Obi-wan’s grief over losing his Master so traumatically and horrifically. Qui-gon’s sudden passing had scarred Obi-wan’s heart more than he would ever admit to the council. 

While Anakin had trouble with attachment Obi-wan did as well. It was something he tried his very best to avoid as he knew it was a weakness. Though he couldn’t help it. He had a heart that cared for others and rightly so. A Jedi was supposed to help people. Just like he wanted so desperately to help Anakin. If only he knew how. He wasn’t sure he would ever unlock the labyrinth of the young man’s heartache and sorrow. All he could do was try.

And he did try. 

So as they dropped out of hyperspace and approached the small green colored world in the distance Obi-wan looked back to Anakin who continuously paced the small stretch between the seats of the transport. His brow furrowed intensely over squinted eyes as he marched up and down the corridor. 

Obi-wan could sense the traces of frustration leaching out from him. At the heart of it was a restless energy that coiled at the core of his being. It prompted him to act or do, just as he always did. 

Anakin had always found mediation near to impossible. Well, the traditional type of meditation that Obi-wan had practiced. Anakin practiced a moving meditation where he would do some small task, or pace as he was doing now. Only while exerting some type of energy could he ever truly be at peace. Though now as he continued to amble about Obi-wan felt anything but peace in the young man’s aura. The restlessness grew until he was practically bursting at the seams. 

“Anakin,” Obi-wan spoke softly as he motioned to the chair at his side. “Why don’t you come and sit for a moment?”

Anakin’s gaze snapped out from his inner world and over to his Master who sat at the front right quarter of the passenger section. After a small huff of resentment he went over and sat as Obi-wan had requested. Immediately Kenobi was thoroughly surprised. It was a rare occasion for Anakin to do something he clearly didn’t want to do especially without some sort of verbal protest. If a huff was all he was going to give in objection it was a good day. 

Obi-wan smiled warmly and turned to face his student as Anakin sat beside him. Even though Anakin crossed his arms and slumped down in the chair, a small win was better than no win at all. So Obi-wan dared to push his luck a bit further with a question. 

“Anakin, I sense something is troubling you.” Obi-wan said empathetically, reaching out to him through the force. He studied Anakin’s expression and aura, searching for signs of reception or rejection of his words. Sensing it was safe enough to proceed he continued. 

“If you feel up to it, I’m here to listen to whatever it is that’s on your mind.” Obi-wan said. This time his words were met with an aggravated sigh. 

Obi-wan deflated slightly as he turned to press his back against the seat again. He had failed. He had done or said something wrong again. 

His efforts always ended up at the same dead end. Though Anakin would never give even a hint of what it was that turned him away from his council, Obi-wan could tell when the boy would stop listening. There weren’t always physical cues but it was a distinct feeling across their bond. Obi-wan knew when he was talking at a wall, it had become all too familiar. 

“I know you might disagree but I care about you a great deal. Perhaps more than I ought to. Your happiness is important to me Anakin. All I want in the entire galaxy is for you to be happy.” Obi-wan said quietly, mostly speaking to himself. 

But he felt the life in their bond light up again as Anakin became receptive to what he was saying. Only he wasn’t being met with any smiles or appreciation. It was raw hurt and anger that came rushing across. Though Obi-wan supposed it was better than keeping it all to himself. Bottling up one’s emotions never led to anything positive coming about. 

“You tell me to open up to you, but every time I do you just lecture me. You never really listen.” Anakin spat out, his remark bolstered with more negative emotion than justifiable for the circumstance. But his anger and pent up frustration was about more than just this one issue. It was a sea of rage and grief that had been growing ever since he was a child. 

Obi-wan took a breath and tried to remind himself to be patient. If he was going to ask Anakin to practice patience he needed to master it himself. Though it had never been one of his natural strong suits. “I am truly sorry for making you feel that way. It has never been my intention.” Obi-wan said carefully and honestly. 

Anakin turned to face his Master and spat back with a sneer. “No, of course not. It never is, is it?” 

“What’s this all about?” Obi-wan asked with his brow creased in concern. He could see his Padawan’s eyes gloss over ever so slightly before the young man turned to face frontwards again. 

“Forget about it, you would never understand.” Anakin said dismissively, pushing the rogue tears back down before they could ever surface. 

Perhaps he thought his Master hadn’t noticed, but he had. But Obi-wan, ever aloof when it came to matters of such delicate nature, had no idea what to do with a Padawan on the verge of tears. It hurt Obi-wan’s heart greatly. Again he had absolutely nothing to give in a situation that clearly called for some sort of skilled intervention. 

It was in moments such as these that he would give Anakin space. But was it because that was what the moment truly called for? Or was it all he knew how to give? Although he would have liked to believe otherwise Obi-wan knew it was the latter. 

“I don’t think that’s very fair.” Obi-wan said quiet yet adamantly. Anakin looked over at his Master with an astonished and confused gaze. 

“What do you mean?” Anakin asked, slowly lowering his guard if only by a fraction. 

“You’re accusing me of not being able to understand. But you aren’t even giving me the opportunity to prove that assumption wrong.” Obi-wan said calmly and decisively. It was perhaps a calculative and logical thing to say, and typically such things infuriated Anakin to no end. But this time Anakin took the words to heart. 

Obi-wan smiled inside of himself. Another small win. He would take what he could get. 

“I suppose,” Anakin said with a frown as he turned to face forwards again. His face contorted against tears for a moment before going stoic again. Clearly whatever it was that bothered the young man was greatly troublesome. He took a shaky breath before he spoke. Obi-wan leaned close intently, ready to carefully listen and be the best Master he knew how to be. 

“It’s just that,” Anakin started, pausing as bouts of tears threatened to overwhelm him. Obi-wan could sense them just on the horizon of Anakin’s aura. With great effort the young man was able to stave them off. “It gets so lonely. I don’t have any friends. No one understands me, no one can relate to someone who didn’t grow up at the temple,” Anakin said, his voice gaining momentum as his sorrows mutated into a simmering rage. 

“No one trusts me. All the other Padawans get sent on solo missions, but not me. This is the first mission i’ve been sent on in months, and it’s not even important. It’s just a meaningless retrieval task. But you get sent on missions all the time, and I never get to go,” Anakin continued, his voice growing from loud to near shouting as he continued to vent. 

“You just leave me alone with all the other Padawans at the temple to train with whoever is unlucky enough to get saddled with me for the day. The only reason you brought me along at all this time is because Master Yoda told you to.” Anakin shouted accusingly, a few tears beading at the edges of his eyes. 

Obi-wan was taken slightly aback. “Anakin, that’s not true,” he started, immediately regretting his words. 

“See, I told you, I _knew_ you wouldn’t understand.” Anakin retorted quickly, darkly gratified that his prediction had been accurate. 

Only it wasn’t. Obi-wan did understand how his Padawan felt, but it was obscured by the lens of youth and insecurity. “That’s not what I mean, I do understand, I do,-”

“Sure.” Anakin said, his voice jaded and flat. “Now you can just get on with the lecture and tell me how our mission isn’t trivial, and how you and the council really do trust me. Only I know that they don’t. Master Windu has disliked me ever since Qui-gon brought me to the temple. And I heard Master Yoda order you to take me with you. You didn’t want to bring me at all.” 

“I don’t like dragging you away from your studies when you started training so many years after all the other Padawans, it’s not that I don’t want you with me, Anakin,” Obi-wan tried to explain. But it all fell on deaf ears. 

“And Master Windu doesn’t dislike you. He was skeptical about your training. It has nothing to do with you as a person. And no, this mission isn’t trivial at all. The Holocrons we are after are very dangerous, we can’t let them fall into the wrong hands. It’s very possible we will even face opposition during their extraction. Not to mention they are in the heart of a _Sith_ temple on a _Sith_ planet no less.” Obi-wan said, then sighed. Anakin wasn’t about to hear any of it. 

“I told you, you wouldn’t understand.” Anakin said as he quickly rose from his seat and continued pacing the length of the ship. “I just want to get off this ship so I can get away from _you._ ” Anakin said sharply as he wiped away the moisture out of his eyes. 

_Oh, Anakin._ If only he could take a moment to understand. But like most times, he was entirely too wrapped up in his emotions to hear anything his Master had to say. But in the end, Anakin’s failure to listen was Obi-wan’s failure. He would have to try harder if he was going to get the young man to understand. 

…….

Anakin continued to pace the small space until his feet began to rub raw in his new boots. Perhaps he should have donned his better worn ones before the mission, but he was always growing at a rapid pace. He had outgrown three sets of boots in the last standard year alone. Not to mention trousers and tunics and the like. It had been that way for the last two to three years. He had even grown past his own Master in height. 

The thought of it amused him at times. Though it could be taken symbolically as well. He had always been progressing at a pace much faster than Obi-wan would ever recognise. He was stronger, faster, and much more powerful in the force than all other padawans his age. Obi-wan might have claimed to not want to drag him away from his studies because of how late he began training but he wasn’t in deficit at all. If his Master truly saw him that way it was only because he refused to see how far he had come. Whatever the reason was it hurt Anakin all the same. 

It was alright that all the others in the temple might not have understood him. It was even okay if the council didn’t like him or if Mace still disagreed with his training. It would have all been alright if his Master could understand and accept him. But even that seemed too much to ask for. Because Obi-wan didn’t appear to understand the unique circumstances he was set against or how it affected him. He would just sit there and tell him how he had it all wrong, how he ought to be looking at things differently. 

How easy for someone to say when they had never lived the life Anakin had led. Obi-wan couldn’t even remember his parents faces or names. It was as if they had never existed. Obi-wan had never been enslaved, made to serve at the whims of others. He had never been beaten for walking too slow or talking. Or perhaps just for someone’s enjoyment. Anakin had. And no one would ever understand how living that sort of life for so long would change a person. 

So he felt emotions. He felt them loudly. He felt fear, pain and loss. Shame, regret, and loneliness. Especially loneliness. What might life have been like had he been born under republic rule? If the Jedi were able to get to him early on in life? 

He would have never known his mother or his friends growing up. He would never have felt the freedom of pod racing- the one good and exhilarating thing in his young life at the time. He would have never become so skilled in fixing things. 

That seemed to be the one thing that everyone in the temple would come to him seeking help for. In the moment it made him feel useful and helpful. Those emotions were the fuel for his existence as a child. To feel them again made him truly happy. 

But always trying to be the best Jedi he could be with no one to appreciate or understand how hard he worked or how far he had come didn’t make him feel useful or helpful. It made him feel invisible and meaningless. It took him to a place where he thought he might have understood what being alone really was. 

And at most times that’s how he felt. Just like now. Obi-wan had tried to connect and Anakin could feel his intention. His Master really only did want the best for him in spite of their divide. But that didn’t change the fact that Obi-wan didn’t understand. 

Obi-wan could never know the anguish that gripped Anakin’s heart when he heard Master Yoda admonishing him to bring his Padawan along on his mission. 

Anakin had been hiding in a nook a few paces over from where Obi-wan had sat at the terminal, researching the planet in question for their current mission. He hadn’t overtly been trying to spy on his Master. Anakin did have legitimate business in the archive library having to do with an assignment in one of his temple classes. But when he saw his Master at the terminal he went over to approach him.

He didn’t get far before Master Yoda got to Obi-wan first. Not wanting to appear too obvious Anakin hid in one of the nooks nearby. Master Yoda had rattled off something first in a quiet voice. Anakin hadn’t been able to distinguish his words. 

But Obi-wan’s words although equally quiet were easy to pick up. He had been listening for that man’s voice for the last nine years of his young life. 

“He’s not ready for this sort of mission Master Yoda. Krayiss Two is a dangerous place. The whole council knows it. That’s why they sent me alone.” Obi-wan said, his words rife with dissent and disagreement. 

“Ready he may not be, yet take him you must. Surprise you, your Padawan might.” Yoda said in a less covert voice. 

Obi-wan let out a sigh of aquiesment. “If you insist, Master Yoda. I suppose I ought to rely on your insights. Perhaps i’m too close to the situation to see it as clearly as you.” 

“Wise you are, Obi-wan. Wise your Padawan will be, as well.” Yoda said with a chuckle before turning to leave. 

Anakin was both broken and excited. He was bursting with joy to be able to go with his Master on a mission, finally. But the circumstances of his tagging along were less than desirable. Obi-wan didn’t want him there. He didn’t think he was ready. 

Obi-wan thought Anakin would only be a liability, that he couldn’t protect himself or be of use. He wanted to prove his Master wrong. He wanted a chance to show just how much he had learned. Admittedly, brooding as he had been for the entire duration of their journey wasn’t helping his case at all. Especially not after spouting off like he had moments ago. 

But he couldn’t take it back now, and he wasn't going to apologize. After all, he was the Padawan not the Master. He did just want to get off the small cramped transport so he could get out into some fresh air. 

Just as he didn’t think he could stand another moment on the ship, the transport had settled down into a small clearing between dense brush and tree cover. Without a word Anakin traversed to the cargo hold to get one of the packs they had prepared for the journey. 

Instead of picking up the lighter of the two, he deliberately chose the heaviest one. It had been intended for his Master to carry but he wasn’t about to be treated like the lesser of the two. He was strong, more than adequate to be able to carry a heavier pack. He felt it was a slight to him that his Master had their supplies be distributed disproportionately at all. It wasn’t as if he were ten years old. He was eighteen now. He had been for several months. In most republic worlds that was the age of adulthood. Any other man his age would have been treated as such, not as the child Obi-wan still thought of him as. 

Obi-wan trailed after him a few steps behind as Anakin descended from the transport and out into the small clearing. The air smelled different. It was humid and heavy, and filled with earthy scents. The ground under his feet was soft and spongy, and gave in to his weight as he walked on it. It was a relief since his feet had been rather torn up from pacing back and forth. At least by the end of their trip his new boots would be fully broken in. 

“Anakin, you took the wrong pack,” Obi-wan said as he walked out behind him.

“That’s fine, Master. I’m more than competent to be able to carry the heavier one.” Anakin said with an air of pride, not turning to look at the man. 

Obi-wan heaved a sigh as he came to stand beside Anakin. “I’m sure you are. No one’s doubting that.” 

In a change of tone as he attended to the business at hand, Obi-wan pulled a small data pad from the folds of his tunic. “At any rate our target is about a day or two south of our current location.” He said showing the map readout to Anakin. 

Anakin glanced at it then turned to face his Master. “Why did we land so far out? It seems excessive to travel the rest on foot.”

“There isn’t any other viable place to land that would get us any closer.” Obi-wan paused and smiled much to Anakin’s irritation. “Besides, what would a mission be without a little physical training?”

Anakin gave a blunt smile in return. “Of course, Master. After you.” He said, as Obi-wan took the lead. 

It wasn’t long before the two of them had to take out their sabers just to cut through the brush to make enough of a path for them to travel through. The growth was dense but the forest around them was quiet. Though Anakin didn’t give much thought to it. 

“I thought this was supposed to be a Sith planet.” Anakin stated, hacking away at the vegetation before him.

“It is indeed that, Padawan.” Obi-wan answered back with labored breath. The two of them had been slashing and cutting through the terrain for the past several hours at this point, and the hot tepid air wasn’t doing them any favors. 

“Aren’t Sith planets supposed to be, oh I don’t know, dead?” Anakin said in frustration as they pressed on. 

“Not necessarily. There haven’t been any Sith on this planet for several thousands of years. The desolation of many Sith worlds is merely a testament to the weapons of war that they employ.” Obi-wan explained. 

“But isn’t that what the Sith want? To destroy everything? Isn’t life an affront to their order?” Anakin asked in curiosity.

“Sith seek power. More often than not that power leads to the desolation of worlds, the depletion of resources. But it’s all secondary.” Obi-wan replied back as he continued slashing forwards. 

“So what are we here for, exactly?” Anakin asked, relieved as they came upon vegetation that was much less dense and didn’t require the use of lightsabers to walk through. 

“There’s a collection of Holocrons in the Sith temple near here. Each one houses the soul of an ancient Sith. They were said to be in hibernation, waiting for the right time to rise to power. Needless to say we can’t let them fall into the wrong hands. On the black market they would be near to priceless. Each one would fetch a price more than any scavenger or pirate could ever dream of.” Obi-wan said grimly. 

“Why would they put themselves inside a Holocron? They would have had no way of knowing that they would ever be released back into the galaxy.” Anakin asked, bewildered at the thought. 

“It’s all about the pursuit of power, Anakin. Be glad you don’t understand it. Most sane beings don’t.” Obi-wan said with thinly veiled aggression. “The Dark Side of the force leads one to adopt ideas and delusions that lead to nothing but suffering.”

Anakin thought about what his Master had just said, sensing a chord of pain strike through their bond. It was a feeling Anakin was all too familiar with though he seldom felt the same in his Master.

“I’m sorry Master, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Anakin said carefully. He thought he might have already known the root of such a dark emotion. It wouldn’t be far fetched to assume the death of Qui-gon still haunted him. As much as they clashed quite often Anakin couldn’t imagine losing his Master, especially so violently. And judging from how he spoke of him Obi-wan and Qui-gon had grown quite close before his passing. Though for as traumatic as the experience might have been Obi-wan had next to never spoken of it. 

“I apologize, Anakin. Sometimes I find it… difficult to remain neutral when dealing with matters relating to the Sith and their madness. I should be more diligent in releasing those sorts of emotions into the force. Please don’t take my poor example as something to emulate.” Obi-wan said in sincere apology. 

Anakin stopped. Obi-wan paused shortly after and turned to face him. “Master, I understand. Please don’t apologize, you don’t need to be sorry. When something so terrible happens, no matter how hard you might try, sometimes it’s impossible to let go of those emotions completely.” He said, surprised at how quickly he rushed to provide emotional support. It seemed out of character, after all he was the Padawan. Perhaps he was looking more for validation of his own travails. Either way to think that he and his Master could understand each other on such a grave issue made him feel slightly less alone. 

Obi-wan seemed bothered by Anakin’s words, and took a deep breath before responding. “But I should be sorry. And I am. I’m supposed to be setting a better example for you. Releasing such heavy emotions into the force might be very difficult, but it’s not impossible.” He said, his blue eyes searching out Anakin’s gaze. 

Anakin felt invalidated by his Master’s words. Even when he was trying to connect with his teacher and help support him somehow the man still managed to turn that into a lecture as well.

Obi-wan must have felt his defeat through their bond. Promptly he stepped in closer and placed a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “Neither of us have yet to conquer that skill. Perhaps we’re meant to learn how, together.” Obi-wan said reassuringly, his blue eyes smiling back at Anakin brightly.

The gentle sentiment hit Anakin hard as the sea of anger and tears that always rested just below the surface began to swell and roar. There were so many things that he wanted to say, so many thing that hurt him that he didn’t know how to handle let alone release. But his master, perhaps not to the same extent, understood what that was like, too. 

Just before his tears broke the surface Anakin threw his arms around his Master’s shoulders and buried his face in the layered tunics. Hesitantly yet gently Obi-wan cast his arms around Anakin as well, reciprocating his embrace. The feeling of another being holding him in such a way was powerful. 

Anakin had always been such a physical person. His Master in contrast, had always been rather reserved. There were few times Anakin could remember that Obi-wan had given him such physical reassurance. Right now it didn’t matter so much that his Master hadn’t been the one to initiate it. It meant the world to him that he reciprocated it.


	2. Comfort

Obi-wan wasn’t sure how to proceed as he held his sobbing Padawan. Anakin had always been given to excesses of emotion, but never quite like this. Typically it manifested in anger or frustration. Though Obi-wan had felt much the same when Qui-gon had died. If it weren’t for that singular event in his otherwise normal life, Obi-wan might not have been able to relate to Anakin at all. 

But for what Obi-wan had lost, Anakin had suffered greatly in many other ways. He could feel the swells of grief come off of the young man as he cried. There were flashes of images that crossed their bond, things that wrenched Obi-wan’s heart to see and feel. But for the heartache of it all Obi-wan felt like he had finally found a missing piece to connecting with Anakin. It was physical contact, a literal physical connection. He could feel how Anakin’s soul ached for it, how he needed to be held. How blind Obi-wan had been to such a simple thing for so long. 

Darkness began to fall on the landscape around them as they stood there. As Anakin’s cries began to lessen and his tears began to cease, Obi-wan carefully pulled away from their embrace.

“I’m sorry Master, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Anakin said tearfully. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Anakin.” Obi-wan said reassuringly as he looked on kindly at his Padawan. “It’s getting dark. Why don’t we find a place to set up camp for the night.” Obi-wan suggested as Anakin wiped at his soggy eyes. 

“Yeah, we should probably get to that.” Anakin agreed, sniffling as he regained his composure. 

The two of them kept trekking on for a short while in search of a feasible campsite. Obi-wan studied the map and had found a spot that seemed like it might have been a small enough clearing to place a tent and a small fire. Though by the time they arrived to the area in question, it didn’t seem any more viable than any other place they had already passed. 

Eventually it was nearly completely dark, so much so that the two of them had a difficult time traversing the terrain at all. Both of them had stumbled multiple times nearly injuring themselves in the process. 

As the sun fell past the horizon beyond the canopy of the trees, the absence of its light added exponentially to the morbid and eerie feel of the forest. When they had landed, his Padawan had even voiced doubt for whether or not this was indeed a Sith planet. While Obi-wan had never doubted, he had understood why one might have held such doubts with all the lush greenery and vegetation. 

Though now as the darkness enveloped all around them, Obi-wan sensed Anakin no longer doubted the Sith history of the ground on which they stood. Something about nightfall brought alive a different side to the forest. Mostly it could be sensed as a pervasive and dreadful bad feeling. The likes of which were next to never followed with anything positive. 

“Master, I don’t like this place.” Anakin said in a small voice. 

It might have been the fact that night had fallen, or it might have had to do with the fact that they were nearing the temple’s location. Whatever the origin of the spiritual darkness that descended on them didn’t much matter. 

“Nor do I.” Obi-wan answered as they pressed forwards. It was foolishness to not have set up a camp before now, Obi-wan knew it. He had been so sure they would have found a better spot to set up. Though now, it seemed doubtful anything of the sort would present itself. 

“Master!” Obi-wan heard Anakin shout, while all of a sudden a rustling moved quickly at them through the forest. A figure slashed out in the space between them, and then just as quickly moved out of view. 

In the low light of the moon Obi-wan saw a glistening red trickle pour out of Anakin’s mouth. He gripped at his side with a look of pain on his face, before collapsing on the ground. 

“Anakin!” Obi-wan shouted, falling to his knees to inspect his injured Padawan.

“Master, what’s wrong?” Anakin asked, his voice rife with concern. “Are you okay?” 

Obi-wan took a breath to steady his senses. The spot where his bloodied Padawan had fallen was empty, just a patch of undergrowth. Anakin hovered over him, his blue eyes seared with fear he didn’t dare voice. 

Slowly, Obi-wan regained his footing and eyed Anakin up and down with concern. Clearly he wasn’t suffering any injuries. Not the likes of which he had just seen. “I… You were just…” 

“I was what, Master?” Anakin asked, hanging on every word Obi-wan spoke for some sense of security in the growing uncertain situation. 

“It’s nothing.” Obi-wan heaved, running a hand over his face in bafflement. “We need to set up a camp for the night immediately. I’ll start clearing out this brush and you can go ahead and start up a small fire.” Obi-wan ordered in routine fashion. 

“Yes, Master.” Anakin said obediently as he set his pack down and stretched out his shoulders before he began. 

The two of them made quick work of setting up camp. As soon as Obi-wan had cleared out the space, Anakin started up the fire. He lit torches and placed them around the perimeter of the clearing they created to bring more light to the space while Obi-wan set up their small tent at the center. Neither of them spoke a word, but they could feel the shared fear that struck across their bond. 

As soon as camp was set Obi-wan along with Anakin sat between the mouth of the tent and the fire with two meal packs. Obi-wan studied the plastic pack he held in his hands with a lack on interest while Anakin quickly turned the heating dial on his ration. Anakin didn’t waste a moment after it was heated well enough and devoured the whole thing in a few heaping bites.

But Obi-wan wasn’t hungry. The vision he had seen earlier of his Padawan in mortal distress haunted him. He supposed it was meant to. They were nearing a Sith temple after all so it was no surprise that the Sith would resort to such tactics to keep Jedi out. They must have put immense effort into creating relics that would repel for hundreds and thousands of years after their makers were dead. 

Obi-wan felt even more dread as he thought what they might face as they continue to approach the temple. They still had the majority of the distance to go before they were even in the vicinity of their destination. Though he didn’t allow himself to think on it for long. He smiled a bit to himself as he thought of what his Master would have said if he were there.

Qui-gon would have reminded him to stay in the moment. So Obi-wan did just that. He looked over to his Padawan who was crumpling up the used meal container and stowing it away in one of their backpacks. Sensing eyes on him, Anakin turned to face his Master. 

“Your finished with your food already?” Obi-wan said with raised brows. Anakin was always growing and ravenous to match. 

Anakin gave a nod. “Yes, Master.” He said and waited for a lecture to ensue. 

“I don’t have much of an appetite. You can have mine, too if you like.” Obi-wan said as he offered up the meal pack to his Padawan. 

“You’re not hungry? Are you sure?” Anakin asked, wide eyed. 

“Really, I’m not going to eat it so you can have it.” Obi-wan said in assurance. 

Anakin gave him a look of disbelief before taking it off of his Master’s hands with a wide grin. “How can you not be hungry?” Anakin said incredulously as he twisted the heat dial and greedily awaited his second portion to be ready to eat.

“Honestly? It’s this place.” Obi-wan said, eyeing around the perimeter of their crude campsite. “I don’t like it.” 

Anakin nodded his head in agreement as he shoveled the contents of the meal pack into his mouth faster than Obi-wan thought possible. 

“Wow you really were hungry,” Obi-wan said with a small smile as Anakin finished the second meal pack and stowed the trash in the same manner as the first container. 

“I’m always hungry,” Anakin said with his brows furrowed before he looked back over to Obi-wan. “Thank you.” 

“Of course,” Obi-wan replied, clapping a hand around the young man. Anakin pressed his head against his Master’s shoulder in response as he gazed out over the fire. Obi-wan smiled. If only things could always be this simple. Only they never were. 

It was so rare to have a moment where they weren’t constantly at odds with each other. Even more rare to find a moment of true peace. It was surprisingly ironic to find such a thing on a Sith planet of all places. Though harsher situations did find a way of forging the toughest relationships. Obi-wan thought fondly over things he and his Master had been through together, and how their bond always seemed to become closer each time they were in danger or when they had to rely on one another. 

Perhaps Master Yoda was right. Maybe no one was ever truly ready for something, until one was made to go through it. Obi-wan could think of many situations where that held true for him. Just like he had never been ready to lose his Master, or fight the Sith who had killed him before his very eyes. He had never been ready to take on a Padawan, but he had all the same. 

And somehow things turned out. It was always a pitfall for him to overthink things. His Master had always told him as much. 

“I’m tired.” Anakin said as he yawned and stretched his arms out overhead. “I think i’m going to go to sleep.” 

“That’s a wise idea. I think I shall be doing the same.” Obi-wan announced as he also stood and stretched before climbing into their tent. The interior of which was very meager, consisting of two travel pillows and sleeping bags. Obi-wan placed the two packs inside the tent near to the entrance. 

Both of them began to strip down to their small clothes before nestling in for the night. Anakin however, winced and gasped as he pulled his boots off his feet. 

“You're hurt,” Obi-wan remarked as he knelt down to examine his Padawans feet to see them bloody and torn from the harshness of stiff leather. 

“New boots.” Anakin explained, waving off his Master as he continued to pull his leggings off. 

“Ah.” Obi-wan nodded as he rummaged through one of their backpacks for a med kit. 

“I had gotten used to it until I had to take them off.” Anakin said as he reclined back onto his sleeping bag. 

“Well we can at least wrap them up for the night to help with the swelling” Obi-wan said in mandate as he pulled his Padawans feet up to bandage them. 

Anakin showed signs of silent protest, but none came to verbal fruition as Obi-wan made quick work of caring for the injury. He applied some bacta to the area thoroughly before wrapping them as an extra measure. 

Obi-wan smiled. “I can’t remember how many times my Master bandaged me like this. I was always so clumsy, always spraining or breaking something.” He said as he looked in the distance with fond remembrance.

“You- clumsy?” Anakin said in disbelief. For a moment Obi-wan thought there may have been a hint of sarcasm. As he finished with his work and settled down in his own sleep sack opposite the young man, he instead saw a look of honest astonishment in his eyes.

“I'm afraid so,” Obi-wan chuckled. 

“You just seem so…” Anakin said open endedly, searching for the right word before continuing. “I mean… when you fight, your form is practically perfect. It's art.” Anakin said, his eyes gleaming with admiration. 

Obi-wan's heart felt a swell of pride for a moment as Anakin's youthful idealization of his Master was revealed. He always focused so much on his own faults that he had never thought he could do anything right in the eyes of his Padawan. Though he remembered how he too had put his own Master, Qui-gon Jinn, on a level of his own. 

“At the heart of all skill is practice, patience and perseverance.” Obi-wan stated simply, not wanting to give too much credence to Anakin’s inflated perspective. After all, every idealization is eventually met with a more disappointing reality. 

“I guess.” Anakin said, nestling into his sleeping bag, careful not to upset the wrapping or wounds on his feet. 

A stillness grew in the air between them as they both adjusted as comfortably as they could in the circumstances. The flickering light of the perimeter torches along with the campfire that still crackled outside cast an orange glow on the two men who both lie with their eyes wide open, staring up at the tent ceiling. 

Typically they would have extinguished the fires before now but being in such an unsettling place, neither of them really wanted to put them out. Although neither of them spoke of it they could feel the mutual feeling resonate across their bond. 

Obi-wan strained his ears to listen, hearing nothing but deafening silence past the crackle of the fire and torches. Though it was reasonable to believe anything he might have heard out of the ordinary from the silence they had experienced all day, might be of Sith origin. Another relic warning them to stay away. Whether the supposed threats might have been real or conjured, Obi-wan found it near to impossible to even think of resting. 

“It’s funny, now that i’m laying here I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, even though i’m exhausted.” Anakin said with a sigh as he laced his fingers behind his head. 

“We have to at least try,” Obi-wan said as much to himself as to Anakin. “Though you’re right. It’s not easy to let one’s guard down in a place like this.” 

“Are you going to put out the fire and the torches?” Anakin asked in a small voice. 

“I planned on staying up until they burnt out on their own, to be honest.” Obi-wan admitted. He should have been setting a better example for his Padawan. It was shameful to be so given to fear. Though he was sure that it was at least slightly understandable. Everything about a Sith planet was meant to keep a Jedi away. Even the fear he was feeling might have very well been inspired of Sith machinations.

“Don’t you need to sleep, too?” Anakin asked, looking over to his Master. 

“Well yes, I suppose I probably should put out the fire.” Obi-wan said. Quickly with a touch of the force he extinguished all fires outside the tent. With the next to non existent moonlight outside, he could barely see a thing even with his eyes wide open. 

The silence that hung in the air was eerie and still. All Obi-wan could hear was his own breathing, and that of his Padawan. Both of which was accelerated by the low grade fear that permeated the air, infecting their spirit. 

But eventually as the silence drew out Obi-wan could hear Anakin begin to snore. He looked over at the man and smiled. If Anakin could find rest, he could, too. After all there was little the Sith could do by inflicting a pervasive bad feeling, or even visions. Not that both of those things were pleasant at all. The point was that it was completely survivable, and not physically harmful. It was a war waged in the mind and nothing else. That he could handle. 

…….

Anakin fell asleep quicker than he thought he would under the circumstances. Usually he was able to fall asleep anywhere when he needed to. It was a quality that he had learned while living as a slave. It was important to get rest when one could. 

But his sleep was anything but peaceful. 

His mind took him back to a place he hadn’t been for a very long time. It wasn’t often he let himself think on it at all. There were many times in his young life that he had felt strong, overwhelming fear. During his time in training he had been taught to release these things. And he did try over and over. But it wasn’t so simple. 

Though it wasn’t often that he ever dreamt at all. It was said that Jedi never had dreams, that they had visions instead. Though why he would be made to revisit this memory he didn’t understand. 

“Go on and play with Aimee, little Ani. Mommy will be back to get you soon.” Shmi said with a smile. But it didn’t reach her eyes. It never did when she sent him away like this. 

“I don’t want to go,” Anakin said adamantly, crossing his arms stubbornly. 

“Ani it’s very important that you listen to me. You have to go. I promise I will be back for you.” Shmi said again, this time not attempting to smile at all. There was an urgency in her voice that Anakin didn’t understand. 

“Something bad is going to happen, I know it. I’m not going to leave you, Mom.” Anakin insisted. 

He could see her eyes gloss over, he could feel the sadness and fear gnawing in her heart. “Nothing bad is going to happen. But you have to go to Aimee’s house, understand?” 

“No, I won’t go.” Anakin said, shaking his head. “What’s wrong Mom? Why do you want me to go?”

Before she could beg anymore, two large men walked through the door to their home. They didn’t bother to knock or announce themselves. The strode in as if they had done so many times over. 

Shmi turned pale and stood straight up immediately. She looked over to the two that lumbered in towards her casually with a harrowing stare. “Anakin, go to Aimee’s house _now._ ” She ordered sternly, in a voice she hardly ever used with him. 

One of the brutes put his hands on her shoulders and began to lead her away into the other room. “Go Anakin, _please,_ ” she begged, her voice breaking as she tried not to cry. 

“Get your hands off my Mom,” Anakin said as he walked up to the man who was now more aggressively pushing Shmi into the other room. Without a thought to his own safety he kicked the man as hard as he could between his legs which promptly sent him stumbling over into the wall allowing Shmi to escape his grasp. 

“Run Mom, get out of here!” Anakin screamed as the brute he had hurt quickly grabbed him by his shirt and threw him across the room into the counter top that jutted out by a few inches. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs for a few seconds. But by the time he remembered how to breathe again, the man had his hands on him. 

“No please don’t hurt him!” Shmi cried out as the other man took to shoving her into the other room instead while the first sent a strafe of blows to Anakin’s ribs and stomach. 

Between punches and incoherent shouting from the man who was beating him, Anakin could hear sickening sounds from the man in the other room, and the soft quiet sobbing of his mother beneath the louder grunts and moans. 

After the man was satisfied that Anakin had learned his lesson, he was left in a pile on the floor, leaking blood out of too many wounds to count. He had broken too many bones to move without excruciating pain. It made everything he had to witness that much worse, knowing he couldn’t do a thing to help anyone. Not even himself. 

His heart wrenched in his chest as the man who had beat him left him there and went over to the room with Shmi and the other man. The sobs and cries that came from the other room escalated quickly. They were unbearable. Anakin thought he would endure the same beating a thousand times if it meant he could spare his mother from suffering at the hands of those two monsters.

His jaw had been too beaten to speak or say anything but his heart cried out for his mother. His eyes had been wet with tears and blood that trickled down from lacerations in his scalp as he sobbed. It was a helpless sorrow that his young heart didn’t know what to do with. 

It had been a memory that he carefully tucked away from his consciousness. It was simply too painful to let himself think about. It wrenched his core to the point he thought he might break. 

“Anakin,” a kind voice called out as his shoulders were jostled. Only his body didn’t hurt like it was supposed to, not as if he had just been beaten. 

“ _Mom,_ ” Anakin cried out in lament. If only he were stronger, then he could have protected her. 

“Anakin, wake up. It’s just a dream.” Obi-wan said softly as he continued to jostle his shoulders, being careful to not be too violent with him. 

Anakin blinked his eyes open and sat up in his sleeping bag and took a heaving breath in an attempt to still his sobbing. Mostly he was able to, but he couldn’t quite stop the tears from falling down his face. 

“I… I couldn’t protect her…” Anakin cried, his voice breaking with tears. “She… They… What they _did_ to her- I-”

Anakin could barely make out his Master’s concerned face in the low light of the moon. That cursed moon. It was still night. It couldn’t be over soon enough. 

“She tried to get me to leave but I couldn’t leave her there. I knew, I _knew_ something bad was going to happen.” Anakin croaked “I could feel it, even then I could feel it.” 

“Anakin, I’m so sorry,” Obi-wan said softly, genuinely. 

“I thought Jedi didn’t have dreams.” Anakin said with a tremor to his voice. “I can’t go back to sleep. I don’t want to see anymore.” 

“For the most part, Jedi don’t have dreams. We have visions. It’s this place. The ancient Sith put traps in place, safeguards to deter Jedi like ourselves from getting close to their treasures and artifacts. It’s been affecting me as well.” Obi-wan explained. 

“The artifacts prey on your weaknesses. Earlier, just before we set up camp, I thought I saw something come out of the brush and the next thing I knew, you were on the ground in a pool of blood.” Obi-wan said with shameful recognition. “No one is above being influenced by this place.” 

“I just want to get what we came for so we can leave already.” Anakin said in his usual frustrated tone. “How long before sunrise?”

Obi-wan rummaged through his tunics beside his sleeping bag to pull out the small data pad. He let out a dejected sigh before he spoke. “Six more hours.” 

“You were right. I wasn’t ready for this mission. You should never have brought me. Master Yoda was wrong.” Anakin spat.

“If we always wait for when we think we’re ready, we’ll never be. I was wrong to doubt your abilities for the mission. You’re more than competent.” Obi-wan said assertively.

“But you still didn’t want me here. I’m just a burden for you to worry about.” Anakin accused. 

“Anakin I hope you know that’s not true.” Obi-wan said, his eyes searching out the darkness to find his student’s eyes. 

“Why would you possibly want me to come along with you?” Anakin said scornfully. 

“In all honesty, this place scares me. The power it still has even though it’s been vacant for hundreds of years scares me. With you here I feel… better. Being alone here would be unbearable.” Obi-wan said with a shade of vulnerability in his voice. “This place will use all our weaknesses against us. You can be sure of that.” 

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.” Anakin said with a sniffle. 

“So what if I am?” Obi-wan said with a smile. 

Anakin paused. What he wanted to ask next made him feel awkward. He knew his Master could sense his hesitation. Obi-wan could always sense the gist of what was going through his mind. At times it was a curse. Though sometimes it was a relief. At the moment, Anakin couldn’t tell which it was. 

“What is it?” Obi-wan asked as he turned to face him. It was unusual for Anakin to be so open with his Master. Though usually all he would receive was a reprimand or correction. He didn’t think he could take that sort of rejection right now, not with what he wanted to ask. It was too delicate, too vulnerable. 

Taking a shaky breath, Anakin began to stumble over his words. “Do you mind… I mean… Is it okay if I… I just don’t think i’ll be able to sleep without someone next to me after-”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Obi-wan said with a smile. Immediately Anakin felt himself breathe a sigh of relief. “Here,” he said, pulling the zip to his sleeping bag open. “Just zip your bag onto mine.” 

Taken aback, Anakin hesitated at the suggestion. “Are you sure?” He asked sheepishly. If there were any more light in the space Anakin knew his Master would have been able to see the blush rise up in his cheeks. He couldn’t help but feel silly for the request to begin with, let alone how readily his Master was willing to accommodate him. 

“Yes. I’m sure.” Obi-wan said with an amused chuckle. 

Without another word Anakin did as he was told and unzipped the side of his bag and attached it to his Master’s. It was a strange feeling as he nestled in close to Obi-wan. He hadn’t asked to sleep next to him since he had been a new Padawan. And even then, it had never been often. 

Aside from that fact, Obi-wan had never been one for shows of physical affection. But now in the span of one day he had held him while he cried, and now was allowing him to lie next to him as well. 

It was different. Anakin couldn’t quite put a finger to it, but it felt like it was fulfilling a need that had gone long without being sated. Something he hadn’t even realized he needed until it was presented to him. 

The simplicity of human contact stilled a piece of his restless heart that usually remained untempered in his chest. In the most miraculous of ways, his unease became peace. The steady hum of his Master’s aura was an unexpected remedy to the turmoil that was ever ravaging his mind and soul as it surrounded him with calm and steady tones. An unconditional comforting presence. 

He had been well acquainted to the feel of his Master’s aura before, but never had experienced it quite like this. He had always been on the outside looking in. Now he felt the warmth envelop him, calming the sea of emotion that boiled beneath the surface of his heart to a blissful stillness. 

“Is this better?” Obi-wan asked, the bass of his voice reverberating gently, tickling Anakin’s skin where it made contact with his Master. 

Anakin silently nodded, drinking in the feeling of tranquility that he was rarely privy to. He felt like he should apologize for his neediness. What other Master would be holding their Padawan in such a way under any circumstances? He was being greedy, childish and not self sufficient like he ought to have been. 

In response to the conflict that began to take root in his heart, Obi-wan wrapped his arms around him, Immediately defusing any and all inner debate about anything. Anakin’s mind went blank. All he could think about was the feeling of his Master’s body against his own and how perfect it was. How safe he felt in Obi-wan’s arms. He even dared to close his eyes, a step in the right direction to be able to fall back asleep. 

But he resisted it. He didn’t want to fall asleep. It was possible he would fall back into another nightmare. Just the thought made his heart pound with dread. 

“What’s wrong?” Obi-wan asked softly. His voice was gentle, perhaps even hypnotic. It lulled Anakin away from the darker feelings, but didn’t quite rescue him entirely from their clutches. 

“I’m afraid to go back to sleep.” Anakin said into his Master’s chest as he pressed himself closer to the man in response. 

“You’re afraid you’ll have another vision?” Obi-wan said, his voice subdued with kindness and understanding. 

Anakin nodded his head into Obi-wan’s chest. In return his Master pulled a hand through his hair gently, holding him close. 

“It is possible. But if that happens, I’ll be right here. Nothing from your past can come back to hurt you. Right now it’s just the two of us.” Obi-wan said reassuringly. Though his words were cut with a slight uncertainty. Either he didn’t put full stock in them, or he expected Anakin to react badly to them.

“But it does hurt.” Anakin mumbled into his Master’s chest. 

“I’m so sorry,” Obi-wan said, his voice steeped in sadness. 

Without anything more to say, Anakin lie in his Master’s arms until he fell asleep. Between crying himself into exhaustion and the comfort of the man’s presence, it didn’t take long for him to drift off again. Only once Anakin had fallen asleep, did Obi-wan allow himself to rest.


	3. Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow and won't be around for a little while so here's another bit for you all until I return. 
> 
> See you all in about a week! 
> 
> As always, take care of yourselves <3

“Master, you’re hurting me,” Anakin whimpered as he writhed beneath Obi-wan, the one who bared down on him. 

Obi-wan could feel his hands clutching and pinning the young man down with an iron grip as a pulse of warm pleasure swelled between his thighs. 

None of it made sense.

He could hear grunts and moans escape his throat. He could feel the faint reverberation of them through his body. Though all of it felt deadened, distant.

His mind was racing, horrified at what was happening. 

“ _Master…_ ” Anakin croaked out as his body quit resisting the assault. Obi-wan could feel they boy’s body tremble, he could feel the heartache, the confusion in his aura. Obi-wan wanted to make it all stop, but he was stuck.

Every limb that moved, every moan and cry was beyond his reach. He was paralyzed inside himself unable to move, speak or act. But in spite of this his hands clutched his Padawan’s hips desperately, chasing a crest of pleasure that grew brighter with each thrust. 

And there was only one name on his lips. 

“ _Anakin…_ ” Obi-wan moaned and shuddered as a burst of pleasure surged, lighting up his entire body. The phantom echos of orgasm filled every cell in his being with warmth and serenity as an equally powerful stark and harrowing darkness filled his chest with shame and guilt. 

Shocked and confused, Obi-wan wrenched his eyes open to find his Padawan lying in his arms asleep. He took a deep breath of relief, though completely disturbed. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling of Anakin beneath him fighting against his hold on him. It sent a nausea through his stomach in an instant. A nausea that was strong and unyielding. 

Quickly Obi-wan rushed up out of the conjoined sleeping bags and into the small campsite they had created. Falling to his knees he began to wretch the contents of his stomach. The likes of which were unimpressive since he had hiked all day then not even eaten dinner. 

How could he ever imagine hurting Anakin in such a way? Obi-wan’s eyes stung with tears at the thought of his Padawan being treated so mercilessly. It tore his heart in half to remember how small and scared his voice had sounded. 

_Master, you’re hurting me…_

Another wave of nausea. This time a bout of dry heaves shook his weak frame. He was a monster. How could he ever take such pleasure in hurting his own Padawan?

No, it was this place. The Sith and their artifacts. Obi-wan knew they would be tested and tormented in all possible ways. Only he hadn’t imagined it would involve such lewd and horrid night visions involving his Padawan. 

A pit grew in his stomach as he suddenly became aware of the mess he had made of himself. He could feel the slick fluid in his sleep pants growing cold in the morning air. In that very instant shame devoured every ounce of self esteem like a rancorous beast. Something was wrong with him if he could become so easily aroused and finished by such a horrific scene. 

No, he would never hurt anyone in such a way. The least of which being his own Padawan. It was the Sith and their devices. They were meant to turn one against oneself. 

“Finally, time to pack up and move out.” Anakin said as he emerged from the tent, breaking Obi-wan’s train of thought. Though it was a welcome distraction. 

Still catching his breath and calming his stomach, Obi-wan only had the strength to nod his head. 

“Feeling alright?” Anakin asked, stepping closer to see the small puddle of bile Obi-wan had expelled only moments before. 

Another nod. “I’m fine, just need to drink some water then i’ll be good to go.” Obi-wan said, injecting a false sense of strength in his voice. 

Anakin needed him at his best. He deserved his whole presence and attention. It wasn’t often they were sent on missions as dire as this one, and Obi-wan didn’t intend on squandering the opportunity to bond with his Padawan. Of course the Sith would twist that intention and pervert it. The more Obi-wan thought on it, the more it made sense. By the time they had hit the trail again, he had settled the matter in his mind. 

It was just a Sith induced vision. Nothing to write home about. Nothing to sweat over. It was over. The sun was up. Anakin’s spirits had significantly improved from the previous day. In general, things were looking to be headed in a positive direction. 

“How are your feet feeling today, better I hope?” Obi-wan asked in a conversational tone. 

“Yeah, actually. They’re mostly better and my boots are much more worn in today than they were yesterday.” Anakin remarked in good spirits. “So, do you think we will reach the temple today?” He followed up in the same bright tone. “I don’t like the idea of spending another night on this rock.” 

“Nor do I,” Obi-wan agreed as he pulled out his data pad to examine the map. “At our current pace, I’d say we should reach the temple within the next few hours.” He said with tangible relief. 

“Once we find the cache, we can call for the transport to air lift us along with the holocrons out of this cursed place.” Obi-wan said, feeling good about their odds of knocking out the task and being rid of the place for good. 

“You make it all sound so simple.” Anakin said in an impressed tone. 

“It may or may not be. All the same I have a bad feeling about this place. We should be on our guard. We may not be alone.” Obi-wan said, reminding himself as much as his Padawan the dangers of being complacent. 

“Of course, Master." Anakin said heartily in agreeance, not an ounce of sarcasm to be detected. A rare and welcome change to his typical demeanor with his Master. 

The two of them continued on, trekking through the dense forest as they headed towards the temple. As the hour drug on the temperature of the forest increased drastically, quickly becoming hotter than the day prior causing both men to shed a few layers during their journey. 

“I don’t remember it being this hot yesterday, Master.” Anakin remarked, wiping the sweat off his brow with one of the tunics he had taken off moments ago. 

“I don’t recall it being quite like this either. Though this planet is known to have tropical temperature variations.” Obi-wan remarked as he shuffled through the repertoire of information he had scrounged up before they had left the temple. 

Then suddenly, Anakin jumped in alarm. 

“Master did you see that?” Anakin asked, his voice hushed. Obi-wan spun on his heel to see his Padawan crouched down in the brush as his eyes scanned the tree canopy. 

“Did I see what?” Obi-wan asked in concern. 

“There it is again,” Anakin added again in an even quieter tone. 

“I don’t see anything.” Obi-wan announced after scanning their surroundings to find nothing out of place. 

But Anakin’s eyes continued to follow a mysterious invisible figure, the likes of which must have drawn closer to their physical location. Dropping the backpack to the ground in an instant, Anakin drew his lightsaber up and quickly poised himself into an offensive stance. 

Obi-wan turned again to look in the direction where Anakin starred, but found nothing but empty space between thickets of green foliage. 

“Anakin, holster your saber at once. Come to your senses, there’s nothing there.” Obi-wan scolded. 

But Anakin only deepened his pose, pressing back on his heels before he struck out. Spiraling past his Master only missing his limbs by near millimeters, Anakin whirled his saber out wide, slashing at the trees and brush that surrounded them. 

Suddenly whipping around to face his Master, Anakin pointed as his eyes widened with horror. “Master, behind you!” He screamed, just before a sharp tearing pain lanced through Obi-wan’s shoulder. Looking over he saw a sinewy decrepit figure sink its teeth down into his flesh. Taken aback by the sudden appearance of the hostile force, Obi-wan froze.

Anakin took the opportunity to slice the monster’s head clean off it’s shoulders, grazing Obi-wan’s flesh only slightly as he did. Immediately the creature fell to the ground with a thud, freeing Obi-wan from its hold.

Obi-wan braced his injured shoulder as he stared down at the creature who had attacked him. The one he managed not to see until it was far too late. And what a ghastly sight it was. 

It was a lanky looking humanoid figure. The body was eroded, nearly decayed out of existence. Gray torn flesh hung loosely on it’s exposed skeletal structure and rotting musculature. On the face where eyes might have once been, were two empty black sockets. It’s hands and feet were mangled gnarled claws. It’s mouth was bristling with razor sharp teeth, all of which were bloodied by Obi-wan’s flesh. 

“M-master, your arm,” Anakin said in shock as he dropped to his knees, quickly rummaging through his backpack to find a med kit. 

“I’m alright,” Obi-wan said in shock, not feeling the extent of his injury quite yet. Then suddenly a crashing sensation came over him. It felt as if a force had slammed into the back of his head sending him tumbling to the ground beside the slain creature. 

“Obi-wan!” Anakin cried out as he rushed over to his side, not knowing what quite to do in his panic.

“I’m alright,” Obi-wan said again, trying to reassure his Padawan. He attempted to push himself back up but was stopped by a terrible pain that lanced through his shoulder. Obi-wan gasped as all breath was forced from his lungs from the sheer immensity of it. Promptly he collapsed again, pinned by the weight of his backpack. 

It took him a second to be able to breathe again but this time even the motion of his ribs expanding and contracting sent pulses of lightning down his arm. Past the edge of panic Anakin took his saber shakily in hand and cut the straps of his Master’s backpack so that he could remove the weight from the man without causing any undue discomfort. 

“I’m going to flip you over, okay?” Anakin said, his voice shallow and trembling. 

“I don’t know if that’s such a wise idea,” Obi-wan said in uncertainty.

“Alright on three.” Anakin ordered, ignoring his Master’s reservations. “One… two…” The next thing Obi-wan felt was a wall of searing fire burning through the site of his injury as Anakin pulled him to lie face up. 

“Oh force,” Obi-wan gasped. “Let’s not do that again,” he whispered out as involuntary tears leaked out the corners of his eyes. 

“I’m going to bandage you up.” Anakin said as the pupils of his eyes were pulled tight with fear. Obi-wan could see the boy’s arms shaking as he tore the bacta pack open and dispensed gel onto the wound. 

“What was that thing?” Anakin asked, scanning their surroundings for any other threats. 

“I… don’t know.” Obi-wan answered with great effort as he eyed the beast in question. “Some sort of defense system, I suspect.”

“There’s bound to be more of them then,” Anakin said, not masking the terror in his voice.

“I don’t know why I couldn’t see it,” Obi-wan said, disturbed by being at such a disadvantage. “I couldn’t even sense it. Thank the force you could.” 

“Not that it seemed to do you any favors.” Anakin retorted grimly as he finished applying the ointment. 

“Alright, i’m going to have you sit up now so I can bandage your shoulder, okay?” Anakin said as he wrapped his arm around Obi-wan’s uninjured shoulder and pulled him up. Obi-wan felt relieved when Anakin’s voice became more stable along with his movements as he worked on mending his injury. Anakin was always a fixer and never did well while feeling helpless. 

Obi-wan was surprised and equally thankful for how well the bacta was working. Already the pain was beginning to lessen. Of course he had been trained to focus on healing any injuries he received on the field. As a Padawan he had practiced it often while on missions with his own Master. Now, it had become a reflex.

Obi-wan chuckled as Anakin began to bandage the wound. “What’s so funny?” Anakin asked, irritated. Clearly he was on edge, and rightly so after such a confrontation.

“I did tell you I was clumsy, didn’t I?” Obi-wan laughed, wincing as his shoulder jostled. 

“I would say this doesn’t have much to do with whether or not your clumsy.” Anakin said with raised brows in a tempered tone.

“Yet i’m injured all the same. See? No one’s impervious to danger.” Obi-wan said in a more serious tone than he intended. 

“Well i’m not letting anything else happen to you.” Anakin stated matter-of-factly. 

“I’m afraid it’s not always that simple. We can’t control everything that happens, not even if we want to. Especially if we want to.” Obi-wan said, searching out Anakin’s eyes as the young man finished bandaging the wound. “It just doesn’t work that way.” 

“I’m going to make it work that way.” Anakin said stubbornly as his eyes glossed over. 

…….

Anakin could see his master begin to formulate a rebuttal to his insistence, but he didn’t voice it. It was just as well that he didn’t say any more. Because Anakin felt resolute in his conviction. He wasn’t going to let his Master get hurt again. It was already bad enough he hadn’t been quick enough to catch the beast before it was able to strike. 

He had seen the thing before it lashed out. It’s speed was clearly bolstered with force ability. Though it had seemed to be dead, nothing more than an implement of the one who drove it. Whoever or whatever it may have been. Obi-wan suggested it was some sort of security measure, and perhaps he was right. It would make sense since they were nearing the location of the temple. They were only a few hours out. How many more defense mechanisms would they trigger before they reached their destination? Anakin didn’t want to think about it. 

“Well at any rate,” Obi-wan spoke in the midst of the growing silence. “We need to get moving. If we rig up that backpack as a shoulder bag, I should be able to carry it on my good side.” He said, rising up to his feet. 

“Just wait a minute.” Anakin said in dissent. “We should be getting out of here. You’re injured, and who knows how many more of those things or worse, are waiting for us out there. If it really is a defense mechanism, we’re bound to meet with more resistance as we get closer.” 

“In spite of my shoulder, I’m more than capable of carrying out the rest of our mission. We just need to be on our guard.” Obi-wan insisted. “Jedi don’t just retreat at the first sign of trouble. We need to retrieve those Holocrons.” 

“But if they are really so well guarded, why do we need to get them at all? Wouldn’t it just be safer to leave them here?” Anakin said, still disgruntled by his Master’s stubbornness. 

“And what if the Sith were to retrieve them? They would more than likely walk past any safeguards in place. They would have the easiest access. That, we cannot allow.” Obi-wan said seriously. “You know as well as I do that the Sith are alive and well.”

“Well, we could return with more Jedi. Then maybe we would stand a chance.” Anakin said with crossed arms. 

“You and I are more than capable of finishing the mission. Besides. I was unable to see or sense anything until it was too late. For whatever reason, you were able to see it. Who says if any other Jedi would even be able to see what you can?” Obi-wan said in a quieter, hesitant voice.

Anakin didn’t like the idea, but he did see his Master’s point. He was right. “I still don’t like it.” He said, resistant to admitting his Master was probably right. 

“You can take the lead, keep your saber in hand. At the first sign of trouble, tell me where to defend from. You can be my eyes.” Obi-wan said. There was a certain gravity in his stare that told Anakin he knew how serious the task was. 

Anakin didn’t know how to feel. The fact that his Master was trusting him with such a thing both made him feel elated and terrified. He couldn’t afford to let his Master down. He wasn’t going to let anything bad happen. He wouldn’t allow it. 

But somehow his Master’s confidence in him felt misplaced. He couldn’t help but remember how he had tried to rescue his Mother from those two brutes. He wanted to save her, but he couldn’t. He was too small, not powerful enough. Both he and his Mother suffered terribly for his shortcomings. 

“I can’t. You don’t know what you’re asking.” Anakin said, his face turning sheet white.

Obi-wan stepped closer to his Padawan and placed a warm hand on his shoulder. “You can. And I am well aware of what I’m asking. It’s not about protecting me. It’s about finishing our mission, for the good of the Galaxy. You have to check your attachments, Anakin. Don’t let them cloud your judgement.” 

But Anakin couldn’t help it. He was terrified of losing his Master. He couldn’t stand the thought of it. After all Obi-wan was great, wise and powerful and even he couldn’t save his own Master. How was Anakin supposed to protect him? How could it not be about protecting him? Anakin didn’t think he could separate those feelings from the situation. 

_Check your attachments._

An interesting sentiment. Anakin knew he ought to have been more careful with attachments but it was difficult. He didn’t have friends, he wasn’t even slightly popular back at the temple. Others simply tolerated him in the same manner he tolerated everyone else treating him as if he were broken and underskilled. When in all reality, he surpassed most others his age including Jedi knights. Not that Anakin thought himself truly ready for knighthood though he thought himself competent enough for the title. Any recognition would have been enough. Just acknowledgement of his existence and understanding of his path and his struggles. But no one understood him or even acknowledged him. He was different, an outcast. 

So it was hard to not cling to the ones who did accept him. For as rocky as their relationship had been, for how most times he felt his Master didn’t truly understand him and oftentimes would undervalue his skill as well, his Master was the only one who invested in him. Really, truly invested in him. He tried to meet him where he was. And here, now, he was quite literally trusting him with his life. 

His Master, whose arms had somehow been the salve to a heartache that had scarred his soul for too long. Whose touch felt like the only thing that could center his mind, quiet his rouge emotions and troubled thoughts.

Losing him would be losing everything. 

“You don’t understand Master,” Anakin shook his head, for the first time coming aware of just how dependant on Obi-wan he really was. How was he supposed to explain any of this to his Master? It was embarrassing, shameful. Childish. 

“We do what we must. I believe in you. Believe in yourself, and trust in the Force.” Obi-wan said reassuringly. 

Anakin felt so transparent before the man. He could probably sense the inner conflict, his true feelings. But he didn’t pry. Probably because they simply didn’t have the time. Any other day Obi-wan would have had a lengthy lecture prepared on how attachments were the bane of a Jedi’s existence. How dangerous they were, how they could lead one to jeopardize the greater good. 

Sheepishly Anakin accepted his Master’s direction. What else was he to do? 

“Alright, I guess.” Anakin reluctantly acquiesced.

Obi-wan smiled. “Good. Now let’s get a move on, shall we?” 

Anakin nodded and Obi-wan retreated to tie the backpack straps into a shoulder bag. He proceeded to sling it over his shoulder and bring his saber to hand as he looked back to Anakin. 

“Alright, after you.” Obi-wan said as Anakin took a breath, taking his saber up and holding it before him as he sauntered forwards through the brush. 

He reached out with the Force, sensing nothing nearby. Not that he had really sensed the other creature, but he had most certainly seen and heard it. Anakin kept moving steadily for the next several minutes in silence. Both of them kept quiet for the sake of hearing any possible threats headed their direction. 

…….

Obi-wan kept a few paces behind Anakin as he tread through the brush. He kept his eyes open and his mind alert. He could sense his Padawan’s focus, his senses trained on the moment. In spite of the young man’s reservations he was doing quite well. Obi-wan would have said so were the circumstances any less perilous. But he kept silent for the sake of the moment. 

But eventually he began to feel tired. It came on in the form of a fatigue that slowly crept over his frame. Obi-wan thought it to be related to his injury. After suffering such an eventful morning, it was reasonable to think he was suffering the crash of an adrenaline rush. 

Though as he began having a difficult time keeping up with his Padawan’s pace which had been slower than normal to begin with, Obi-wan began to wonder if something else was amiss. Implications began to drift lazily through his mind as he began to feel his mental faculties tire and dull. It felt like he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

But he kept pressing on. The mission had to come first. Besides, he didn’t want to worry his Padawan. Anakin was already so distraught to begin with. But eventually Obi-wan tumbled over some of the ground cover, unable to lift up his legs enough to pass over the small rooted plants. 

Hearing his Master’s fall amidst the eerie silence of the planet, Anakin spun around and promptly sprinted to Obi-wan’s side. The panic in the young man’s face was obvious. It pulled on Obi-wan’s heart. He wanted to be what the boy needed. He was falling short of meeting that mark. 

“Master!” Anakin called out as he knelt at Obi-wan’s side. “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m fine, I just… need to rest for a moment…” Obi-wan said, feeling his eyes grow heavy as they began to flutter shut. 

As he rested on the forest floor, the ground felt soft. He was tired, so tired. Sleep. Sleep felt like a wonderful idea. Just for a moment, then he would get up again. 

“Master, open your eyes. We have to keep going.” Anakin insisted as he shook his good shoulder. 

“Okay, just… one moment.” Obi-wan breathed. He could feel a cold hand on his cheek pressing lightly against his skin. 

“You’re burning up,” Anakin remarked anxiously. “You need to drink some water,” He added. Obi-wan could hear him rummaging through his backpack for a canteen, and the sloshing of liquid inside the metal container once he found it. 

“Lift up your head, Master. Drink.” Anakin said, pushing on Obi-wan’s shoulder to position him to lie on his side. Anakin pressed the metal mouth of the container against Obi-wan’s lips. The metal felt cold to the touch. Suddenly everything was so cold. Too cold. 

A small trickle of water poured into his mouth which he greedily drank. But still he was tired, too tired to open his eyes. Too exhausted to say a word. 

“I’m going to set up camp here, alright? You need to rest.” Anakin said as he pulled the side bag off of his Master’s shoulder and began to pull out supplies. 

Obi-wan could hear the hum of Anakin’s lightsaber, the sizzle and crash as he cleared out a space in the same fashion as Obi-wan had the night prior. The smell of ozone and dense foliage seemed comforting as he drifted from consciousness, into a feaverish sleep.


	4. Fester

Anakin tried his best to stay alert and centered as he established their camp site. He leveled a small piece of land enough to erect their tent and establish a small space for a possible camp fire later on. He rolled out their sleeping bags and placed their pillows as his Master would have done. Gently, he lifted Obi-wan up in his arms and placed him on his sleeping bag. Once he had shelter, Anakin gathered supplies to create a torch perimeter as he had done the previous night. 

After every few minutes of work, Anakin would go check on his Master to see if there had been any change to his condition. His fever continued to burn on steadily. Anakin hoped with the cooling night air approaching, his temperature would return to normal. If it didn’t, he wasn’t sure what he could do to help. 

After their camp had been completed, Anakin rummaged through his backpack to find his communicator. Just as he had thought, they were too far out of range to be able to send any messages off world. On a hunch, he tried to signal their transport over to their location. He couldn’t make any contact with the ship. It didn’t even show up on the map feed from his communicator. Feeling a pang of fear, Anakin quickly fetched his Master’s data pad to look at its map. There wasn’t a trace of the ship there, either. 

Either the tree cover and terrain was blocking the signal or… Any number of things might have befallen their ship along with the pilot droid. Either way, Anakin was on his own with his Master injured and out of commission. 

Pushing his overactive imagination aside, he calculated how long it would take him to get to the temple and back and compared it with how much daylight he had left. The results weren’t promising. He would be stuck out here for another night. This time he didn’t have his Master to help him through. Though his presence alone was enough to calm him slightly. 

In his anxiousness, Anakin took to pacing the edge of their camp as the sun began to cast longer shadows, where it’s rays peaked through the dense canopy. As darkness finally descended, he readily lit the fire and torches and positioned himself between the fire and the tent as he had the night before. Only this time instead of relaxing and resting, he waited warily with the feel of his muscles coiled tightly in dreadful expectancy. He didn’t even allow himself to eat. He couldn’t afford to so much as blink at the wrong time. It would only take a second of weakness for him or his Master to be detrimentally injured. And being this far away from any republic help, their chances at rescue seemed dim at best. The Jedi would be bound to send out someone to find them eventually, but Anakin feared to rely on that as their sole hope, would be to find their deaths first. 

And he wasn’t going to let anything happen to his Master. That meant he couldn’t let anything happen to himself, either. 

In the midst of the unsettling silence, Anakin heard a rustling. Immediately he jumped to his feet with his saber in hand. Only a moment later did he realize the sound came from within their tent as Obi-wan began to rustle in his sleeping bag. 

The man hadn’t moved since he had put him there, so this seemed to be a good sign. Anakin even allowed himself to feel relief for a moment as he entered the small dwelling to see if he was about to wake. 

“Anakin,” Obi-wan croaked out quietly. His voice rasped like sandpaper as the whites of his eyes glistened by the firelight. 

“Master,” Anakin whispered back, kneeling by his side. “Tell me what you need.” 

“Water,” Obi-wan said with desperate thirst, his words strained with effort. 

Without a word, Anakin rummaged through one of the backpacks to retrieve a canteen of water. Obi-wan held out a shaky hand for it and gripped the container tightly as he brought it to his lips and emptied it within seconds. 

“Do you want more?” Anakin asked attentively. 

“No, no that’s fine.” Obi-wan answered back, his voice smoother and more like his usual self, though still weakened by his condition. “How long have I been out?” He asked, sitting himself fully upright. 

“Just a few hours. I set up camp while you were sleeping.” Anakin said, omitting a portion of less than desirable information. 

Obi-wan could sense it right away. “What else? Something is wrong, I can tell.” He said hunching forwards and crossing his legs to sit comfortably, only wincing slightly as his injured shoulder moved. 

“It’s just, we have no way of getting any calls out. I can’t even contact the ship. Its locator doesn’t even show on the map.” Anakin confessed, feeling better for having his Master be able to help him with their growing list of problems, though feeling equally guilty. He ought to have been enough on his own, he shouldn't have needed his Master so much.

“I see.” Obi-wan said contemplatively. But even Anakin knew what he was going to say next. “Well, the mission still comes first. Everything else can be dealt with after.” 

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” Anakin said, feeling a dread take root in his stomach as irritation manifested with a clenched jaw and balled up fists. 

“By the time morning arrives, I should be nearly at my best. We shouldn’t have any problems finishing out objective tomorrow.” Obi-wan said optimistically. 

Anakin wished he shared his Master’s sentiment. If only things would turn out so easy. But nothing on this mission so far had been simple. But he would accept his Master's direction, lacking a better idea himself, knowing quitting was not an option for a Jedi.

“If you say so, Master.” Anakin said grimly. 

“Have you eaten?” Obi-wan asked, examining his Padawan’s pallor with concern. 

“Well, no, not since last night when we made camp.” Anakin confessed. 

“Well why don’t we heat up a couple of meal packs and then get some rest hmm?” Obi-wan suggested, pulling a hand through his sweat matted hair. “I’m beginning to feel quite famished myself, actually.” 

“Of course.” Anakin answered dutifully. Even he was beginning to feel it was odd to be so obedient and agreeable to his Master. This might have been the longest streak yet without him earning a lecture of some other manner of reprimand. Even longer yet for how long he had gone without giving out some slight of his own. 

Though with circumstances being what they were, it was hardly the time for such things. As much as Obi-wan wanted to act as if everything was well, and that nothing much had changed, everything had changed. They couldn’t be caught bickering amongst themselves when they were trying to survive. 

After finding a couple of meal packs, Anakin twisted the dials on both and handed one to his Master. “Here you go.” He said with a small courteous smile as he sat down beside Obi-wan on his own sleeping bag. 

“Thank you,” Obi-wan said graciously before he tore his pack open and began to take small bites. Anakin, as always, devoured his in mere seconds before he began to dispose of the empty container.

Obi-wan paused between spoonfuls, looking as if he might say something but remaining silent. 

…….

Obi-wan watched as Anakin looked at him with varying degrees of concern. He hadn’t been quite sure how much better he would be by the morning, but it wouldn’t help matters to have Anakin’s focus skewed by his attachments. Anakin had to believe he was okay, even if he wasn’t. 

But to be honest, even Obi-wan himself wasn’t entirely sure if he was or not. His fever had come on quick, and the way it had taken him over so completely had been unforeseen and unexpected. He was young enough, and completely healthy. There was no reason he should have been so disposed. But whatever it was seemed to be on its way out now. 

But still, if he was going to be on the move in the morning, he would need to get as much rest as he could. And before that, he would need to finish the rather unappetizing meal pack he held unenthusiastically in his hands. 

“What’s wrong Master?” Anakin finally spoke after the growing silence between them. 

“Hmm?” Obi-wan asked, with his brows raised, trying as best he could to appear innocent to any accusations. 

“I can tell when something is on your mind.” Anakin said with conviction. 

Obi-wan supposed it would be true. Out of anyone at the temple, Anakin had grown to know him better than all the other Jedi combined. Sure others knew him well enough, but no one had seen him in so many lights as Anakin had. Qui-gon had known him in the same way when Obi-wan had been his Padawan, but that time was gone and his Master along with it. 

“I’m just concerned with what the creature from earlier might have been.” Obi-wan said. It wasn’t entirely a lie, he was indeed curious. And it was certainly a matter to be taken seriously. But Anakin couldn’t know all the other worries and fears that lingered in his mind. It wouldn’t do the boy any good. 

“Oh. Yeah.” Anakin said as he nodded his head in agreeance. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” 

“Nor have I. There was most certainly a lack of information on such creatures in the temple archives.” Obi-wan said as he rested his hand on his chin. 

“I wonder if anyone has encountered anything like it on other Sith planets.” Anakin said inquisitively, searching through his limited pool of knowledge on the subject, hoping his Master would have additional insights. 

“Well I don’t know about Sith planets per say, but dark magic is known to be able to reanimate the dead. The nightsisters of Dathomir are known for such acts. There are other species who have used dead bodies as vessels to carry out their bidding via other methods. The act of reanimation is always steeped in the Dark Side of the force.” Obi-wan explained. 

“But none of those things would account for the creature’s apparent mutations.” He added, searching the air for answers. 

“Are you sure the creature was mutated? Or was it just a species we haven’t seen before?” Anakin asked, concerned. 

Obi-wan wanted to say his Padawan was right. He wanted to put Anakin’s mind at ease. But the fact of the matter was that it was highly unlikely to find an undiscovered species in this sector of the outer rim. The being in question was very close in resemblance to many well known species. It could have even been human at a time. Before something caused it to become what it was. A harrowing beast, waiting for an unsuspecting Jedi to cross it’s path. 

So many other questions. Questions he didn’t dare voice to his Padawan. Anakin needed his rest if they were to keep on in the morning. There was still the matter of finding transport off the planet once they had accomplished their mission to begin with. None of that would be accomplished any better by sharing any concerns with Anakin. 

“I suppose it’s possible however unlikely. Though it remains a threat all the same.” Obi-wan said carefully, not wanting to upset Anakin any more than he already was. 

Obi-wan knew it was wrong to be shielding Anakin in such ways. He sensed his late Master would disapprove. Was the root of the behavior stemming from pragmatics, or attachment? Perhaps a blend of both, yet no doubt more one than the other. 

“I just hope we don’t run into any more of them.” Anakin said as his eyes traveled to the mouth of the tent. Obi-wan could feel the anxiety swell in his aura as his mind wandered over the growing list of terrible things that could be waiting for them out in the dark. 

Obi-wan more than understood the reason for such feelings, but anxiousness was hardly a useful emotion in of itself. “Don’t worry. Stay in the moment. Thinking too much about what might be takes us away from what is.” Obi-wan said in emulation of his late Master. Though he couldn’t help but agree with the wisdom of it. 

“I guess.” Anakin said. Clearly he was having a difficult time taking his mind off of the matter at hand. Rightly so. It was a dire task to be on alert, vigilant of an enemy whose stealth far surpassed that of most. 

Obi-wan prodded his food with the spoon he held loosely in hand. As hungry as he felt, he didn’t ever think he would be eager to eat one of the bland textureless ration meal packs. Though not eating wasn’t an option this time. He needed his strength. 

“Well, I think i’m going to keep watch just a little bit longer before I go to sleep.” Anakin said, stretching out his limbs overhead before moving to exit their small tent. “Make sure you eat that before you go back to sleep, Master.” The boy said in mock chastisement. 

Obi-wan smiled. “Of course.” 

“Just call for me if you need anything.” Anakin added in a more serious tone, a sign of just how worried he was. 

“I will.” Obi-wan said, forcing himself to shovel a spoonful of slop into his mouth to put his Padawan’s mind at ease. 

Anakin gave a small relieved smile in response before he left his Master alone. 

Though not a moment later, Obi-wan set his meal pack down with a heaving sigh. No need to keep up appearances while one was alone. Kenobi’s expression sagged with exhaustion and distress. He needed to stay strong enough for Anakin. The boy wouldn’t be able to handle the mission otherwise. It was a burden he wasn't sure he had the strength to shoulder.

Obi-wan knew Qui-gon would have never pandered to Anakin's broken sense of self worth. He would never have bolstered his over-reliance on attachments. The late Qui-gon Jinn would have said it like it was.

But that would only push Anakin further away. Obi-wan felt as if he had just discovered the key to getting him to listen at all. Reverting to his Master’s tactics wouldn't produce any results. And being stranded on a Sith planet was the last place they could afford to be so divided. So far as Obi-wan could tell, reinforcing attachments was the only way to get him to listen. It made him feel like a failure and a success all at the same time. 

But Obi-wan would take what he could get. Putting the subject to rest in his mind, Obi-wan stretched out his arms. For a second, he forgot about the bite wound on his shoulder. But as he moved, he quickly remembered as a pain shot through his arm. Though now it was much more manageable. Nearly better than he thought it ought to have been. 

Perhaps it had healed quickly due to his habit of self healing in the field. If that was the case, after a good night’s rest he would be nearly unphased by the wound entirely. It would be better that way, he didn’t want to be slowed down any longer than they already had been. They had been on world long enough for Obi-wan to be ready to leave. 

In an attempt to hasten the healing process, Obi-wan reached out with his cognisance, touching his shoulder with the Force as he amplified the healing tones that resonated through his body. Immediately in response, a shock wave ripped through him. It felt like the very Force energy he had employed to heal his shoulder had been twisted and turned back on him ten fold.

Not a moment later, Anakin came bursting into the tent. “Master, what’s wrong?” He said, his face creased all over with worry and concern. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

Obi-wan hadn’t meant to, but clearly in his pain he had made some sound of distress. His lungs were still struggling to inflate again as he nodded, trying to put Anakin at ease. It was an increasingly difficult task. 

“Yes, Anakin. I’m just fine.” Obi-wan said, his words less convincing than he would have liked. He couldn’t keep the edge of fright and pain from bleeding into his voice. He wanted to be fine, he wanted nothing more than for that to be true. Though he was beginning to understand he was anything but.

“What happened?” Anakin insisted, kneeling down beside his Master.

“Nothing. Just this blasted shoulder.” Obi-wan said with irritation as his palms began to sweat with fear. He shouldn’t have been afraid. For a Jedi there was no emotion, only peace. Or so he tried to tell himself. 

“Oh.” Anakin said in realization. “I should change the bandage, anyways. We don’t want it to get infected.” He said as he trifled through one of their backpacks for a med kit. 

“Really I don’t think that’s necessary, Anakin.” Obi-wan insisted adamantly. Even he didn’t want to see what was brewing beneath the soiled wrapping. Anakin was the last one who needed to see whatever it was. At least for now, he needed his Padawan operating at his best. 

“You don’t have a say in the matter, Master.” Anakin said stubbornly as he opened up the med kit, retrieving med shears to take off his Master’s bandage.

“I don’t want to waste supplies.” Obi-wan insisted again, suddenly feeling faint and dizzy. Was he really so afraid that it was affecting him so severely? Or was it something else?

Whatever it was, Obi-wan’s sudden exhaustion bled into his voice. Anakin immediately took note. “You don’t sound like you feel well, Master. Why don’t you lay down?” 

Feeling himself grow weaker by the second, Obi-wan did as he was told. Quickly his vision grew dim, even though his eyes were wide open he couldn’t see much. That same fog began to grow over his senses, drowning out everything until there was nothing left. 

…….

“I don’t want to waste supplies.” Obi-wan said stubbornly. But his voice was tinged with something different. His face had suddenly turned sheet white and his eyes began to loose focus. 

Anakin tried hard to stay strong, and worked hard to not let any of his internal panic show in his words. “You don’t sound like you feel well, Master. Why don’t you lay down?”

Immediately Obi-wan let his body go limp on the floor of the tent as he all but collapsed, his barely eaten meal pack by his side. Anakin thought that perhaps his Master was just exhausted. It was a possibility since he had hardly eaten in the last two days. Not to mention the injury and fever he had suffered in the last few hours. He needed sustenance now more than ever if he was going to get better. 

But Obi-wan had always been a picky eater. Anakin was significantly less so. Growing up as a slave, you knew to eat what you could when you could since food was never guaranteed. Another trace reminder of the different paths they had walked as younglings. The different lives they had led.

But that didn’t matter now. Now his Master was on the floor, his eyes trailing off vacantly as he became unresponsive. 

“Master.” Anakin said, jostling the man’s good shoulder. No response. “ _Master._ ” He said louder, shaking the man even more fervently. Still, no response. He was still breathing, his eyes were still opened. Trained on what? He couldn’t say. Most likely nothing. 

Prompted to action by the rapidly deteriorating state his Master was in, Anakin took the bandage scissors in his damp trembling hands. Taking a breath to steady himself in order to not cut Obi-wan in the process he began to clip through the bottom edge of the wrapping. It made sense that whatever was wrong with his Master had to do with the wound. 

Then in one sudden flash of movement with incredible near inhuman speed, Obi-wan reached over and ripped Anakin’s hand away from his shoulder slicing both his own arm and his Padawan’s hand in the process. 

“Ow!” Anakin shouted out in surprise as he pulled his arm back against his Master’s iron grip. Though even as blood began to pour out of both of their fresh injuries, Obi-wan didn’t relent. Anakin’s Master only clamped down harder with painful strength, making the boy’s hand go numb and cold quickly causing him to lose hold of the med shears as they clattered to the ground.

Confused, Anakin looked over to meet his Master’s gaze. In contrast to the glazed over stare he had exhibited only moments ago, now Obi-wan’s jewel blue eyes seared into his own. There was something deep within them, something dark, angry, foreign.

It was Obi-wan looking up at him, but it wasn’t. Anakin was entranced, searching deep in the man’s eyes for any trace of his soul. The kindness, the tenderness that had been there. Anakin couldn’t find any of it. It left him speechless as seconds passed by. Quickly his shock became replaced by a feeling that was difficult to place. 

Anakin tried again to pull from his Master’s grip to no avail. “Let go of me,” he shouted angrily as he yanked more aggressively this time. Obi-wan snarled back at him through his teeth as the vacant darkness in his eyes became a wicked glare. 

But this wasn’t his Master. Obi-wan was there, but he was gone. It was just Anakin alone with whatever dark thing that bore into his soul unflinchingly with unapologetic furocity. In the depths of him, Anakin could feel a dormant violence that threatened to unleash at any given moment. 

Feeling a steady panic rising in his veins, Anakin pulled against Obi-wan’s hold one last time only to be pushed back. By his Master’s hands or with the force, he couldn't tell. Everything happened too fast. Though in the very next instant his Master was pinning him down, now both wrists caught in a deathly firm grip. 

Still those eyes bore into him. Anakin thought he could almost hear the darkness whispering from within them. It was just out of his reach. It felt like cold hands on his consciousness, archaic and otherworldly. It wrapped around him like the cold vacuum of space, composed of nothing at all, yet somehow all consuming. 

“I said I don’t want to waste supplies.” Obi-wan said in ominous monotone as the grip on Anakin’s wrists seemed to become even tighter, close to bone crushing. 

The lingering panic mounted into a wave of fear that crashed against Anakin’s senses as he came to the sudden realization that he was in danger. It was odd to feel such a thing at the hands of his Master; the man who had taken care of him for so long. It didn’t seem real. The gravity of it pulled all the air from his lungs until he didn’t think he could breathe. 

The bones in his wrists creaked and flexed, nearing the point of breakage causing Anakin to writhe in pain. “Master, you’re hurting me,” Anakin cried out as he searched the man’s eyes for a trace of Obi-wan Kenobi. 

And then something stirred there, from deep within came the rise of a conflict that bled into his Master’s expression. He could see Obi-wan pushing to the surface past the wall of darkness that stood before him. But still the iron grip on his wrists didn’t lessen. 

“Obi-wan,” Anakin begged, feeling increasingly small and helpless. It was an emotion he never did well with, a feeling that was tied to too many other instances. It was a crushing well of grief that consumed him. For a moment he was that small child again, working in the slave shops of Tatooine. Ever at the mercy of others who rarely had any to spare. 

But then his Master broke the surface. The eyes that had been relentlessly glaring through him were now softened with kindness and compassion. The hold on his wrists ceased as Obi-wan pulled back in alarm. Just as quickly, Anakin pushed himself upright and began to rub circulation back into his hands. It was painful, the skin of his wrists was already beginning to darken with bruises from Obi-wan’s grip. 

Hazed with shock, Anakin looked over to his Master. Obi-wan seemed to be frightened, even terrified. His skin was sheet white, more so than when he had gone despondent only moments ago. 

Anakin saw his Master take a quick survey of him, the man’s eyes widening as they fell to the growing smear of blood on his hand from where his flesh had been sliced open. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice brimming with concern as he scrambled to grab the spool of fresh wrapping that Anakin had pulled from the med kit only moments earlier. 

Without a word Obi-wan lurched forwards to bandage the cut on Anakin’s hand that was still bleeding profusely. Anakin pulled back instinctively. His mind was stuck in the past, a time where it had never been safe to trust anyone. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his Master, he did. But there was no way to reconcile what had just happened with his innate knowledge that Obi-wan would never have done anything to hurt him intentionally. Even his eyes had been different, feral somehow. Nothing at all like the man Anakin had grown to know. 

Clearly pained by his avoidant reaction, a look of apology fell over his Master’s face. “Let me bandage that for you,” Obi-wan said hesitantly as he waited for Anakin to approach him instead. 

Though Anakin still hesitated. It wasn’t like him at all to be so frightened. However in the light of the inexplicable duality of his Master’s behavior, he didn’t know how else to be. It felt like everything he knew was now to be questioned, like everything was spiraling out of control. It seemed like a drastic reaction for such a seemingly small incident, but Anakin couldn’t help the way he felt. 

Somehow the sudden uncertainty had unearthed something that had been hidden deep inside of him for too long. It was a feeling that was roped and knotted with hundreds of memories both intrinsic and explicit. Along with those long forgotten images came a pervasive feeling of dread and unease that he had once happily left along with the feel of hot dry air and unforgiving sands of Tatooine. 

But he was there again, a child of the desert. A soul pressed into service of others by birth and title. As his former self surfaced, it contended against the Jedi he had been striving to become. Every ounce of training told him he needed to let go of it all, the pain, the anger, the shame. If only he knew how. If it had been so simple he would have given it all away in an instant. Instead it seemed to be infused, interwoven into the very fabric of his being. To erase the pain would be to erase himself. 

The whirlwind of heartache, shame and fear took every inch of space between his ribs, expanding and consuming every bit of self assurance and discipline. He wanted it to go away instead he was taken by the sheer overwhelming intensity of it. Anakin felt as if he had stumbled into a flash sandstorm of the most unforgiving kind. The only difference was, Anakin knew how to navigate his way to safety through a storm. This, he had no idea how to handle. 

Gaining his usual confident demeanor back quickly, Obi-wan put on a more serious yet gentle face. “Come now let’s have a look,” he insisted. The normalcy to his words and expressions seemed to help anchor Anakin, bringing him back to the moment. 

Not wanting to draw out the ordeal or make his Master feel worse than he already seemed to, Anakin reached out his injured hand towards Obi-wan who made quick work of bandaging the wound. The ritual of his Master caring for him was another cornerstone of his existence. Anakin always knew he relied far too much on his Master but didn't quite appreciate the extent of just how much until the constancy of his Master’s steady demeanor had faltered, giving way to whatever darkness had taken him over for that dreadful moment. But now more than ever he began to appreciate his Master for all that he gave him. After all, Obi-wan was the only one he could ever count on, since he left Tatooine all those years ago. 

“There you are,” Obi-wan said warmly as he finished tucking the stray end of wrapping away. Though before he let Anakin’s hand go, he studied the darkening rings around his wrists with dread. 

Anakin could feel there was something he wanted to say or ask, but he kept silent. Both of them were riddled with things they didn’t know how to talk about. It had to have been the cursed ground on which they stood. Obi-wan had told of Sith artifacts that were made to influence any number of things. All of which were designed to lead one into the dark, or be obliterated by it. As Anakin pondered the thought, he began to feel nearly certain that the darkness he had seen in his Master’s eyes had been of Sith origin.

Breaking the silence, Obi-wan spoke quietly in a tone of caution. “Anakin,” he started, trailing off as his face twisted with intense distress. 

Anakin’s gaze flitted towards his Master’s eyes. He could see an equal measure of reservation there. Quickly averting his stare he responded in question, “Master?” Anakin nearly whispered, daring to glance up at him for mere seconds at a time. It was another reflex that called back to his days as a slave. A good slave never sustained eye contact with their Master. Although Anakin knew better than to expect such demands from Obi-wan, he felt called back to those mannerisms all the same even though he hadn’t even thought about them for several years. 

“I remember…” Obi-wan started off, his eyes trailing waywards in thought. “I felt faint, then everything went dark right as you were about to redress my shoulder. Then the next thing I knew I was…” Obi-wan stopped in mid sentence, too pained by the words that remained unspoken. 

“I just don’t understand. What happened?” Obi-wan asked Anakin as much as himself. There was a crease in the man’s brow that furrowed with intense concern as his eyes searched the air before him for an answer. 

“I don’t know,” Anakin answered, unsure. He didn’t know how to put any of it into words. How could he explain the way fear gripped his heart? How all of his training had been null in an instant? How could he speak of the black abyss that taken residence inside his Master’s soul? It all seemed to be too much.

“You didn’t want me to change your bandage,” Anakin said, keeping his eyes low. “But there was something in your eyes… It felt like you were looking right through me.” Anakin confessed shamefully. He was afraid to look his Master straight on. He knew he would find pity there, and the thought disgusted him. 

He could already feel the how his words had torn right through the man, as shame and terror wrapped around his shrinking aura. “I didn’t… hurt you in any way, did i?” Obi-wan asked, his voice hesitant and afraid.

“Just my hands,” Anakin said, slightly confused as he looked back up to his Master. 

Obi-wan gave a small sigh of relief as a burden slightly lifted from his expression. Anakin couldn’t make sense of it, but was glad for his Master to feel better. He knew he would never hurt him.

“I’m so sorry,” Obi-wan said in earnest, his eyes searching out those of his Padawan which Anakin reluctantly reciprocated. 

Not knowing what to say or how to respond, Anakin nodded. 

“Anakin, I need you to listen to me.” Obi-wan started in a strict and serious tone. 

Anakin gave his Master his complete and full attention as his heart pounded in his chest. His palms were damp and his stomach was tied in knots. It was the weight of the unknown, the fear of what might be. He took a deep breath and tried to remain in the moment. Where it was just the two of them.

“I can’t guarantee I won’t blackout again. I don’t know what might happen if I do. You have to promise me that if anything happens like that again, that you’ll get your lightsaber and do whatever it takes to protect yourself.” Obi-wan said with a look of grave importance. 

His words sent a bolt of panic through Anakin’s chest, erasing the prior fear and reservation. “What do you mean? I’m not going to use my lightsaber against you, Master.” Anakin said, shaking his head in protest. 

Instead of an answer or reprimand, Obi-wan took a breath and promptly pulled the wrapping off of his shoulder. Beneath it, he could see blackened pieces of decaying flesh where the monster had sunken into him. Dark lines spread out from the site leading across his chest and down his arm as the skin around the injury became pale and ashen. 

At the sight of it, Obi-wan gasped. Anakin looked on in silent horror as a pang of desperate panic pulsed in his chest. “Whatever that creature was, it’s compromised me. I have no way of knowing how I might be affected as we get closer to the temple. Or how much worse it will get with time.” 

Anakin blanched. “Master, we should forget the mission. We have to get you back to the temple. The healers will know what to do.” 

“We can’t leave now, Anakin. A Jedi does not quit when things get difficult.” Obi-wan insisted with a tinge of frustration. “Besides. Finishing the mission won’t take much more time. Either way, we can’t make contact with the ship so we will have to travel over land on the way back.”

“But what if this kills you, Master? Is it really worth it?” Anakin nearly shouted as he begged for Obi-wan to listen to reason. He wasn’t about to lose him. 

“A Jedi would willingly lay down his life for the greater good. This is no exception.” Obi-wan said stubbornly. 

“Is that what you thought when Qui-gon died, too?” Anakin shouted accusingly with hot tears stinging his eyes. “Was it worth it then?”

“Anakin,” Obi-wan said in a softer tone. “It won’t come to that.”

“You can’t possibly know that.” Anakin nearly snarled. 

“Listen to me,” Obi-wan entreated kindy. “We cannot afford to be at odds with one another in this place. Do you understand?” 

“Why don’t you stay here and I can go and finish the mission?” Anakin suggested in a hopeful voice as a few tears fell from the corner of his eye. “That way you don’t have to worry about me getting hurt. You can stay here and get better.”

“That won’t work. I need you to keep an eye on me, as well. I need you to take care of me, if the Dark takes me over completely. If i’m gone, you can’t let my body be a servant to the Dark Side.” Obi-wan said apologetically, wincing at his words. 

“No. I can’t do that.” Anakin cried, shaking his head fervently. “You don’t even know what you’re asking.” 

“But I do. I’m so sorry, but this is the only way. Promise me, Anakin. You’ve got to promise.” Obi-wan said as his eyes began to gloss over as well.

“You said it wouldn’t come to that.” Anakin spat out angrily. 

“I hope it doesn’t.” Obi-wan said, stifling tears with every ounce of his will. 

“But you’re all I have, Obi-wan,” Anakin said, his voice breaking with tears. “I couldn’t- Im sorry but what you’re asking, I can’t do it Master I can’t.” 

Obi-wan sighed and opened his arms to hold his sobbing Padawan. Anakin cried and trembled in his Master’s arms. He couldn’t imagine having to hurt his Master, not even if his Master were hurting him. He didn’t think he could ever turn against Obi-wan, especially with his own lightsaber. The thought of ever having to made him feel paralyzed. He supposed it was true, that attachments were weaknesses. But they could be such great strengths as well. 

Without a word, Obi-wan and Anakin positioned their sleeping bags as they had the night prior, dressed down and crawled under the covers. Both of them were exhausted from the emotional and physical exertion of the day. Obi-wan held Anakin close to him as he wept, feeling a few rogue tears escape from his disciplined exterior as well. 

“I’m going to put out the fire now, alright?” Obi-wan said as Anakin nestled against his chest. 

“Ok,” Anakin whispered as he nodded, snuggling in closer.

As darkness descended, Anakin found himself holding his breath, waiting for something horrible. He huddled in his Master’s arms for comfort, feeling only slightly better.

Obi-wan reached out across the tent and pulled Anakin’s lightsaber from the belt clip in his pile of clothes. 

“Anakin, I want you to keep this close to you, alright?” Obi-wan spoke softly, the bass of his voice humming pleasantly against Anakin’s skin. 

If only what he were saying wasn’t so dire. Anakin sniffled as his Master handed the saber over to him. He would take it to make Obi-wan feel better, but he could never use it against him. But for now, he would let his Master think he could. 

Anakin nodded. 

“Good boy.” Obi-wan said tousling his hair. 

“Now get some sleep.”


	5. Vision

After nearly crying himself to sleep, Anakin managed to find a fraction of peace for a few hours. Though even as he rested he could feel the heavy weight of dread that pushed on his chest like a stone boulder. The potential task he had been given was too much for his soul to take on. It festered and gnawed away at him until he blinked awake into the same darkness he had fallen asleep in. 

He looked to the saber he still held in his hands as he lie next to his Master. He could see the metal of it glinting in the low light that filtered in through the fabric of their shelter. The air outside was still as it ever had been. Not a noise to be heard aside from his Masters breathing.

Anakin put his saber down beside him and closed his eyes again. Maybe he could sleep better without it. He hoped it would be so. 

As he tried to fall back asleep he could feel the soft tufts of his Master's breath brush up against the back of his neck. The rhythm was soothing. Anakin felt himself sink into a sleepy meditative trance, feeling a wave of peace fall over him. More than just a quiet mind, soon his whole body began to feel free.

But then that tempo of breath began to quicken, and his Master’s skin began to feel hot and clammy. For the most part it escaped his awareness. Anakin was nearly asleep when Obi-wan began to toss about restlessly. He might not have noticed a thing, had his Master’s hand not wandered down the front of his sleep pants. 

Anakin’s eyes flew open with a gasp as his Master gently palmed over his quickly stiffening erection. No one had ever touched him like that. There were people he had once held feelings for, Padme Amidala to name one, but he had never acted on any of it, nor had anyone else ever taken such a physical interest in him.

The way it felt, having someone so intentionally coaxing him to hardness, was intrinsically erotic. He was helpless against the physico-chemical reaction that made his skin feel sensitive and warm as his heart drummed against his ribs. It pulled him deeper inside his mind, to his basest self. Where the animal instincts that once drove his kind, billions of years ago, resided. 

And it felt wonderful, but there were other things swimming in his chest that he couldn't quite explain. Any and all words escaped him in that moment. He couldn't make sense of any of it, not while he was preoccupied with such raw sensation under his Master's touch.

Hushed gasps and moans fell from his lips that he tried to still and quiet, as if someone might hear. It seemed so perfect, the way his Master’s hand gripped and stroked him torturously slow with care, feeling his hard girth pulse with heat. Anakin couldn't help but whimper as Obi-wan thumbed over the tip on slow careful circles as he brought his fist to the end of his member, then back down again with delicious firmness. His belly trembled with a rising pleasure, an intensity of which far surpassed anything he could ever bring himself to feel alone. 

As Obi-wan continued to stroke him, Anakin felt his Master's fully hardened cock press against his backside. Low husky moans vibrated through the man’s chest as he began to grind on him at the same tempo at which he pumped his shaft. It stirred a strange feeling in Anakin’s chest that caused him to grow rigid with nervous tension. 

The sound of his Master's voice so animal and desperate both excited and confused him all at the same time. He had never thought of Obi-wan as a sexual being ever in his life. Now he was grinding on him, touching him, making him feel so good in ways he never imagined. 

Perhaps most confusing was how perfect Obi-wan was. It was the way his breathing faltered ar he pressed against him harder, how he jacked him off quicker all at the same time. Anakin felt his heart pound desperately in his chest as his mind raced, trying to make sense of it all.

But none of it did make sense. In the midst of his confusion a storm of emotions swirled through his body, every bit of it drowned out by the promise of pleasure that lit up between his thighs. It was all consuming, distracting, more powerful than he knew how to handle. He was reduced to nothing, all under the ministrations of his Master.

And somehow the the sensations grew brighter, louder, filling every cell in his body. Anakin’s thoughts were empty of all except the mind numbing pleasure. He didn’t want it to stop, he would beg his Master to finish him, do anything for him, be anything he wanted. It both surprised and terrified him all at the same time. 

“Oh,” Anakin breathed and moaned quietly as he neared the edge, “ _Master…_ ” 

Just as he nearly crested, Obi-wan pulled his hand back and hungirly tore away Anakin’s sleep pants, exposing him completely while he quickly wriggled out of his own clothes. All the meanwhile Anakin’s ruined orgasm faded, leaving him aching painfully for more as he cried out from the sudden loss of pleasurable sensation.

Anakin wanted to beg Obi-wan to finish him, but the mix of confusing emotions left him paralyzed. He still didn’t understand what was going on or why his Master was doing this. The conflicting storm of emotions that had sparked in his chest when his Master first touched him began to rage and boil beneath his still exterior. But he couldn’t do anything but wait for what his Master was going to do to him next. 

Roughly, Obi-wan pushed Anakin to lay face down and positioned himself on top between his legs. Anakin’s heart dropped and his stomach churned. Just as much as he had longed for his Master to finish him, now he just wanted everything to stop. But just like before he was silent and still, locked inside his mind. 

Obi-wan sprawled atop him, pressing the tip of his cock against Anakin’s entrance causing him to gasp as his stomach filled with dread. Anakin didn’t know what he wanted or how he felt, but he didn’t think he wanted this. Everything was happening too fast, spiraling out of control. 

He had liked it before, how his Master had touched him, how good it felt. But now he was afraid. Because no one had ever touched him like that. He had never even had his first kiss. Now someone was going to be inside of him. 

But not just someone. His Master. Obi-wan. But Obi-wan would never do this, he would never hold him down while he took advantage. He would have never put his hands on him like this at all without asking. 

No.

If Obi-wan were to take such an interest, he would have been gentle and kind. He would have asked, he would have kissed him first. This was wrong, it was all wrong. If he could look into his Master’s eyes, Obi-wan wouldn’t be there. It would be the darkness that had stared into his soul before. Vicious, self serving, wicked. The thought of it made it difficult to breathe.

Anakin clenched his eyes shut and waited for the worst. But instead of pushing inside of him, Obi-wan gently rubbed his tip against his entrance as he stroked himself. Anakin could feel his Master’s labored breath on his neck, feel the hum of his voice as he moaned low. 

Only moments ago that husky bass had driven him wild with pleasure, but now it sent pangs of dread through his core. Because he knew what the man wanted, knew what he was going to do. Quickly finishing himself off to completion, Obi-wan’s body shivered as he gave a sated moan. Anakin could feel his Master’s cock press against him harder as he spilled and throbbed. 

And then slicked with his own cum, Obi-wan pressed against him even harder. Panicked, Anakin tried to break away but was forced to stay in place.

“No,” Anakin cried out breathlessly as he tried even harder to get away again only to be wrestled into submission. Obi-wan steadied his hips with a painful iron grip, keeping him still as he slowly pressed inside. 

The first moment took Anakin’s breath away. The feeling of being spread apart, the searing sharp pain that was somehow as deep as it was overwhelming ripped through his heart as the tempest of emotions began to tear through his chest. 

As air returned to his lungs, Anakin cried out as hot tears stung in his eyes. He could feel his body resisting when his Master pressed inside further. He wanted to keep on fighting but Obi-wan was too strong. His arms might as well have been durasteel bars, keeping him exactly where he wanted him. 

After what felt like an eternity of pain and heartache, Obi-wan had buried himself inside Anakin from stem to root. He could feel his Master resting there, fully enveloped. Only a moment later Obi-wan began to thrust inside of him. 

It hurt so badly. When Anakin writhed against his Master, it hurt even worse. Through the pain, he could hear his Master’s ragged grunts and moans ring out in the otherwise still air. 

And there it was, only inches away from his hands. Anakin’s lightsaber. He remembered what his Master made him promise, to defend himself at any cost. He had agreed to put Obi-wan’s mind at rest. Just looking at it made everything even worse. He would never hurt his Master. Not now, not ever. 

Soft sobs racked his chest as steady streams of tears rolled down his face. Anakin tried to focus on his breathing. But every time he thought he had gained a level of control over the pain, his Master seemed to get even more rough with him. His stomach sank as he could feel Obi-wan become firmer, his incoherent moans and cries growing louder with it. 

“Master, you’re hurting me,” Anakin whimpered as he writhed against Obi-wan’s intensifying assault. 

Obi-wan didn’t stop, but quickly his tempo changed, exchanging violent thrusts for gentle ones. The iron grip on his hips released as his Master’s hands smoothed over the skin of his sides, then began to rove over the rest of his body with soft, delicate touches. 

Simultaneously Obi-wan seemed to find something inside of him that felt pleasurable and warm. Everytime he hit that spot his body relaxed, allowing his Master inside more easily. Anakin found himself no longer resisting his Master’s hold on him, no longer tensing as he pressed inside of him. 

In response to the gentle treatment, Anakin’s tears ceased and his girth began to harden. He could feel the swells of pleasure take root, pulling his focus to the moment. Between the soft touches and the way his Master kept prodding him in just the right way, Anakin found himself shifting his hips on his Master’s cock in attempt to amplify the pleasure that grew between his thighs. 

He felt his pulse quicken as his breath began to falter. “ _Master,_ ” Anakin moaned and sighed, the brilliant sensation amplified every time Obi-wan swept a hand over the stiff peaks of his nipples, with every hot breath he felt on the back of his neck. He could hear the sound of his Master’s voice taken with sighs and gasps, so different from the animal grunts and moans from before. Obi-wan’s gentle cadence was intoxicating, all consuming.

Then Obi-wan’s strong yet gentle arms pulled Anakin to lay on his back. This time when his Master pressed inside, he did so with tender care. Anakin could see his Master’s lips parted as he let out a quiet gasp, the creases in his brow shaded by the filtered moonlight as his perfect jewel blue eyes wandered over his naked body. There was no darkness in those eyes like Anakin thought he might have seen before. He saw kindness, compassion. 

He saw Obi-wan. 

Anakin felt the tempest of confusion swell in his throat as tears welled in his eyes. A flash of what looked like concern danced in his Master’s eyes in response as Obi-wan lowered himself over Anakin, softly pressing his lips against his own. Desperately Anakin’s lips parted in allowance as his Master’s tongue searched his mouth. Anakin’s heart sung and ached as he tatested him. A tickle of excitement sparked in his chest as Obi-wan moaned into his mouth, thrusting inside of him. 

What was it that roared in his chest? An unknown hunger that devoured every moment of pleasure and pain, a need that had gone long without being sated. A desire to feel, to touch, to want and be wanted. To have and be had. A confusion that undermined it all, a doubt, a fear. A sense of losing control, of excitement, of curiosity. 

All of it danced in his chest as his Master moved on top of him, inside of him, moaning and trembling as they both neared orgasm. Greedily, Anakin wrapped his legs around his Master’s waist to meet him with thrusts of his own. 

And then Obi-wan reached down to wrap his hand around Anakin’s cock, stroking him firmly yet gently as he fucked him. Anakin couldn’t help but let out a startled cry of pleasure at the contact. It was perfect, the way his Master’s hand wrapped around him, how he throbbed inside of him.

Then Obi-wan’s face began to twist with pleasure as he became firmer, his eyes flitting as he thrust inside Anakin just a little bit harder, though not painfully. Anakin’s stomach tightened with anxiousness at the feeling of his Master approaching climax. Obi-wan was about to cum inside of _him,_ was using _him_ for pleasure. Obi-wan wanted him like this, Anakin could hear it in his desperate bated moans, could feel it in his trembling core. Obi-wan wanted him, needed him. 

And Anakin felt wanted, maybe for the first time ever. He was wanted, and he was pleasing his Master. But Anakin wanted him, too. Just like this. It felt confusing and wonderful with a tinge of guilt and shame to match. It was everything he had ever felt, combined into one raging storm of passion and chaos, pleasure and pain. 

And then orgasm hit both of them in a wave, crashing through their senses and over their bodies. Anakin could feel his Master’s hand on his cock, finishing him as they both came. The hot slick feel of Obi-wan’s cum inside of him made him sensitive in a wonderful way as he tightened his legs around his Master further as their orgasm waned, leaving echos of pleasure pulsing through their bodies. 

“ _Anakin,_ ” Obi-wan moaned as he gently thrust his softening cock inside him. 

Anakin looked up at his Master with a measure of satisfaction and wonder before Obi-wan withdrew from him. Anakin could feel Obi-wan’s seed drip down his thigh. It stirred the confusion to the top of his mixed emotions as his Master settled down in their sleeping bag at his side, pulling Anakin into his arms. 

Obi-wan closed his eyes, promptly falling back asleep without a word. As if nothing had happened at all. 

…….

It was the same vision, again. Obi-wan’s skin crawled with aversion as he witnessed the same assault from before where he was forced to hurt Anakin. His arms moved and his hands gripped him violently while he desperately wished it all to stop. 

_It’s just a vision, it’s not real,_ Obi-wan told himself as shameful pleasure welled between his thighs.

_It’s just a vision, why does it have to be so vivid?_

But it felt real. He could feel Anakin’s body writhe as he tried to escape. But he couldn’t escape. Obi-wan trapped him in as he pressed inside of him. He could feel Anakin fighting it, could hear him cry out in pain. 

Obi-wan wanted it all to go away. He cursed the delicious sensation that he felt as he violated his Padawan, he shouldn’t be able to enjoy it at all. He hated himself for acknowledging how tight the young man was, for how good it felt to be inside of him. As he began to fall into a rhythm, the orgasmic pleasure became all consuming. The more Anakin fought it, the better it felt. 

And he did fight it, the poor boy. Obi-wan’s heart ached as his Padawan’s frame shook with sobs. It made him even sicker to hear the brutish grunts and moans from his own lips. 

It was terrible. His heart wrenched as his pleasure grew greater, filling his chest with tumultuous guilt. 

“Master, you’re hurting me,” Anakin cried out and writhed against him. 

Obi-wan’s heart shattered over and over. He couldn’t stand the thought of hurting Anakin. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare, from the conflicting sensations and emotions that tormented his soul. 

Though with the surge of emotion, Obi-wan regained control over his body. He still felt dreamlike, but he could control his limbs, now. 

He could stop now. 

But it was just a vision. 

Obi-wan released his hold on Anakin’s hips and traveled over his delicate porcelain flesh. His skin felt silky and warm. The feeling of touching someone so intimately sent a throng of excitement through him. But it was wrong, he shouldn’t be giving in to such base desires. 

But now that he had regained control over himself, the desperate helplessness he felt while being forced to witness Anakin be hurt, ceased. The pleasure that had taken ahold of his senses was still there, perhaps even more powerful now that he was no longer fighting the force that had taken him over, that made him do terrible things. 

Obi-wan thrust gently inside him, overwhelmed by the sensation. He should have stopped, part of himself wanted to. But another part of himself wanted more, needed more. So he pushed the damning thoughts out of the scope of his awareness as he began to take a slow pace. It didn’t take long to find Anakin’s prostate. Once he did he made sure to pay it special attention. In response, he could feel Anakin relax and shudder, allowing him to enter more easily. 

Obi-wan felt horrified with himself, but he had already been so aroused. It was just a vision, he wasn’t really doing this to his Padawan. He would never. It wasn’t real. 

So he could do whatever he wanted. 

And it was easy to give in, more easy than he wanted to admit. He couldn’t deny how beautiful he was, how tight and delicious he was to fuck. But it shouldn’t have been just about that. Perhaps it wasn’t.

“ _Master,_ ” Anakin moaned as he began to spear himself on his cock. Obi-wan gasped at the unexpected participation. Pleased by his reaction, he focused on Anakin’s sensitive spot with even more as he pressed gently inside. Anakin even began to let out small whimpers of pleasure. 

Obi-wan’s heart pounded in his chest as felt a heinous thrill jolt through him. It was wrong. But it wasn’t real. Besides, Anakin wasn’t being hurt anymore, he was actively participating. What harm was there in enjoying it? 

Anakin’s soft sounds of pleasure filled Obi-wan’s chest with a gratifying sense of power. He wanted to make Anakin feel every bit of pleasure that pulsed between his thighs. He wanted to see him in the desperate throes of passion, to feel him contract and pulse around him. It wasn’t just about the pleasure Anakin could make him feel, but about how he could be made to feel those same ways. 

Gently, Obi-wan pulled out of Anakin and shifted him to lie on his back. Obi-wan sat between his legs, looking down at him. He could see the dried tears on his face along with the beautiful vulnerability that sparkled in his eyes. His body was perfect, every bit of him was absolutely beautiful. Anakin waited there submissively for his Master enter him again. 

Obi-wan could see the desire in Anakin’s eyes as he pressed inside of him. He didn’t even try to stifle the wanton gasp as he did. Anakin was perfect. But then his eyes began to gloss over again. Not with fear or pain, but with something else. It only added to how beautiful he was to him. 

Obi-wan leaned down and gently pressed his lips against Anakins, who hungirly reciprocated. He searched out his Master’s mouth desperately, locking his legs around Obi-wan’s hips as he did. 

Obi-wan pulled back again and looked down at Anakin’s cock with longing. He couldn’t help but feel mortified at his reaction, but he quickly brushed the inhibition aside. Obi-wan reached down to stroke Anakin, both shocked and impressed by the size of his girth. His Padawan let out a startled moan of approval as he began to stroke him. 

Anakin looked so beautiful in the low light as they both neared orgasm. Obi-wan began to thrust inside him harder, relieved when Anakin showed no signs of pain or discomfort, but rather quite the opposite. He moaned and thrust his hips up to meet Obi-wan more aggressively, panting as a sheen of sweat began to glisten on both of their bodies. 

So Obi-wan let himself chase orgasm as he fucked his Padawan desperately, stroking Anakin generously as he did. Both of them let out unrestrained moans and cries as they came closer to climax. For the moment, Obi-wan didn’t care how wrong it was. Anakin was delicious, so tight, firm and perfect. The look on his face as his body trembled and quaked with the all consuming pleasure was beautifully erotic in ways he would never forget. 

Then he could feel it, the height of pleasure as orgasm racked both their bodies. Anakin clamped down powerfully on his Master’s girth as he came, milking Obi-wan for every last drop of seed that he could spill. Obi-wan felt the hot slick of Anakin’s cum on his hand as his cock pulsed in his grip. 

“ _Anakin,_ ” Obi-wan moaned as his erection began to soften. He thrust inside of him slowly a few more times, wanting the moment to last as long as possible. He looked down at his Padawan, seeing a sparkle of wonder and satisfaction in his eyes. 

Fully sated, Obi-wan pulled out of him and settled down by his side, wrapping his arms around his Padawan

 _It was just a vision._ Obi-wan thought as he drifted back into unconsciousness, a vague sense of shame and guilt biting at his heart. _It wasn’t real._


	6. Monster

Obi-wan awoke long after the sun had risen. Anakin had already dressed and started packing up their supplies by the time he had roused. He ought to have been up too, but he clearly needed his sleep. Whatever it was that monster had introduced to him was obviously taking a toll on his physical health. 

Obi-wan stretched out under the cover of his sleeping bag and immediately froze. He was completely naked, all of his sleep clothing had been kicked to the foot of his bag. His lower abdomen was covered in dried seamen, as well as his hand. 

A pit formed in his stomach as he prayed he hadn’t acted out lewdly in front of Anakin.  
He desperately hoped the boy had been asleep for the whole affair. If Anakin had witnessed such unseemly behavior from his Master, Obi-wan wasn’t sure how he would explain it. Even if he had seen nothing else, at the very least, Anakin would have noticed his nakedness. 

As badly as he wanted to escape confronting things as they were, acting like he was still asleep was no solution at all. Sooner or later he would have to face his Padawan. But Obi-wan didn’t know how he could look at Anakin without contending against the lurid images that cluttered his mind. It was the curse he brought upon himself for so willingly participating in such an eroticised fantasy. All of it seemed so much worse now that Anakin had no doubt witnessed him in such an indisposed state. 

Either way, not dealing with the situation at had was not an option. Quickly, Obi-wan dressed himself, making sure to take a splash of water and a towel to himself before he did. Once he was fully clothed he felt slightly better about their predicament. After all they did have much more pressing concerns to deal with-- The Sith holocrons and the means by which they were going to get themselves along with the artifacts off the horrid, Force forsaken rock when they were done. The gravity of their mission at hand made his worries seem trivial in comparison. 

After taking a breath to steady his nerves which were still quite on edge, Obi-wan wandered out of the tent to see Anakin sitting patiently with both backpacks mostly loaded, aside from their sleep gear and tent. The boy seemed tense, his shoulders rigid. The small crease between his brows along with the storm in his aura told Obi-wan that he was troubled. About what, he was too afraid to ask. 

“You let me sleep in too long,” Obi-wan said in mock chastisement. “We’ll have to hurry now to get the mission finished before sundown.” 

Anakin glanced up at him with a nervous expression, then back forward before he spoke. Obi-wan could see his fingers fidget, something he only ever did while under immense stress. His stomach tied itself into knots thinking of why he might be so avoidant. What he might have seen or heard made Obi-wan blanch to think about. 

“I’m sorry Master,” Anakin said with a pause. “I just thought… since you were injured you might need your sleep.” He added, the last bit sounding less than authentic. Clearly, he was avoiding saying what was on his mind.

Obi-wan didn’t want to press the matter. “Well, I suppose so,” he answered back as he began packing up their sleep supplies, making quick work of disassembling the tent. After Obi-wan had it all stowed away in his makeshift shoulder bag he set onto the next task. Pulling the small data pad from the side pocket of his bag, he qued the map readout. It was better this way, more productive to get on with business than to ponder on matters that one couldn’t change. 

“Well, it’s not too far off in this direction.” Obi-wan said as they started forwards through the brush. 

A few moments into their journey Obi-wan stopped and turned to Anakin. The boy looked back at him with the same beautifully vulnerable expression he had seen in his vision. Obi-wan was sure he must of seen it a hundred times over, only now it stirred other things inside of him. Things he could never act on. Obi-wan cursed himself for allowing himself to get so carried away in his vision. How long would he be fighting those images from coming to mind? 

“What is it, Master?” Anakin asked hesitantly. 

“Oh,” Obi-wan said, realizing he had turned to face the boy only to stare at him. “Your lightsaber,” he said, eyeing the weapon that hung on his Padawan’s belt. “Keep it in your hand at all times, understand?” Obi-wan ordered firmly, intent on his goal to prevent anything from happening to him. But Obi-wan could see something else in Anakin’s eyes. Something like reservation, but more. Regardless, he nodded obediently in agreeance and took his saber in his hand. 

“Never hesitate to defend yourself. Even from me.” Obi-wan said, swallowing hard as guilt coiled up from deep inside himself. The remembrance of how willingly he had used his Padawan, even if only in his vision, made him feel sick. It was wrong, he should have never reinforced such desires. Anakin may have been of legal age but that didn’t matter. Between the two of them he was the teacher and Anakin was the student. It was always wrong to take advantage of such a power imbalance. 

In response to his admonition Anakin’s eyes grew a shade fearful and his skin turned pale. He avoided eye contact as he spoke softly, almost in a whispered tone. “Yes, Master.” 

Obi-wan wanted to ask what had him in such a state, but didn’t have the nerve. He wanted to put a hand on his shoulder and tell him that it would all be alright, but touching him in any capacity seemed too invasive. Instead he turned frontwards again as they trudged through the forest. It was better to stay on the move. Better to stay objective.

“Remember to keep an eye out for those _things,_ ” Obi-wan said over his shoulder, shuddering in remembrance of how horrid the creature looked. How he hadn’t seen it until it was too late. How many other hidden dangers were lurking in wait, deep within the foliage of the Sith cursed world? 

“I am,” Anakin said dutifly as he paced himself near to his master. At least his voice had mostly turned back to normal. It took a fraction of the shameful burden from his shoulders for the moment. 

…….

Anakin was on high alert as they pushed through the brush, his saber in hand as he scanned for any threats. It was better to be in such a high stakes situation. It made it slightly easier to let what happened that night to fall to the back of his mind. Not that it was entirely out of the scope of his thoughts. To completely push it out of his awareness would be nearly impossible.

Anakin didn’t know how to feel about what his Master had done to him. In moments it had been wonderful, amazing yet terrifying all at the same time. He had always cared for his Master, but had never thought of him that way before. Now it was difficult to look at him and not see him as he was then. The sound of his Master’s voice as he came to know him intimately in ways no one else ever had was seared in his mind, absolutely unforgettable. It confused him. Anakin thought he wanted more, but he was angry. 

He wanted to make sense of it all, how Obi-wan could be so rough, then so tender and giving. That first moment when his Master held him down and forced himself on him still made Anakin sick to his stomach when he thought about it.

It was the first time someone had ever done that to him. It should have been special. His Master should have been gentle. It felt like something out of a nightmare instead. 

The pain had been overwhelming, tearing and ripping inside of him. Anakin still felt raw from the assault. There was tumultuous shame, gut wrenching heartache that hurt him in places no one could ever reach. For as awful as it had been, it only lasted for a few moments. After that, everything had changed. 

Obi-wan’s hands relented their iron grip on him, as the tough skin of his Master’s palms wandered gently over his body. The pain he felt from the man’s abrupt entry ceased and transmuted into a desperate pleasure. It didn’t make sense. He wanted it to make sense. 

But Obi-wan woke up and started the day as if nothing had happened. As if he didn’t remember a single thing about the night before. About how he had touched him, all the things he did to him, all the ways he made him feel. Pain, pleasure, fear, desperation. All without a word or reason. He never told him he loved him, or whispered any kind sweet words Anakin might have expected. 

It was all so physical. So senseless. Anakin thought it a product of one of his Master’s blackouts due to the Sith poison in his veins. But that didn’t explain all of it. Not the part where he kissed him, touched him gently, whispered his name with such passion and desire it still made him shudder to think about. 

Lost in the turmoil of his thoughts, Anakin walked straight into his Master who stood staring off in the distance, still as stone. Losing his footing and tumbling over a few gnarled roots, Anakin quickly picked himself back up and brushed himself off.

“Master?” Anakin asked carefully. He looked around the two of them searching for something out of the ordinary that Obi-wan might have been looking at, finding nothing of the sort. 

Anakin’s stomach dropped as he noticed the subtle change in the man’s aura as it shifted from Obi-wan’s typical warmth to something cooler. He could sense his connection to the force was still strong yet different, inverted somehow. There was a darkness to it but Anakin couldn’t decipher much. Many of his force perception skills were admittedly underdeveloped. 

But he knew enough to sense that his Master was no longer standing in front of him. It was something, _someone_ else. Obi-wan turned around to face him slowly. The way he moved was all wrong. The soft and sure movements of his Master had been erased and replaced with the postured menace of a much darker soul.

Anakin tightened his grip on his lightsaber as his palms began to dampen. Slowly yet methodically he began to take a few paces back, not turning his back on the unknown being who stood before him. 

Cold, unfeeling eyes studied his frame as a sick sneer formed on the man’s lips. “So this is what you look like with clothes,” a voice spoke from his Master’s lips. The cadence had changed. It was sinister and elegant, yet frighteningly severe. The very sound of it commanded a sense of authority over others. 

Anakin resisted the fear that lanced through his chest, remaining silent as the man came closer, dropping his Master’s shoulder bag to the forest floor as he sauntered towards him with deadly grace. Just as the hollowed out eyes and wicked sneer didn’t suit Obi-wan’s features, Anakin could feel his Master’s essense rejecting the darkness. But that didn’t make any difference as the man kept pressing onwards towards him with a stare that cut right through him, chilling him to the bone. 

Anakin fought the panic that wanted to consume him as he raised his unlit saber towards his Master’s form that continued to stalk closer. Something in that wicked gaze told Anakin that the dark being knew he would never be able to use it against him. The man laughed heartily for a moment before biting his lower lip, studying Anakin's body with a ravenous glint to his wild stare. 

“I’ve been trapped on this world for tens of hundreds of years, cased inside a box. Until you and your Master came and set me free.” The dark one proclaimed with a tinge of madness to his voice, manifesting as a glint of something wild in his features as he smiled. “Well, you _will_ set me free.” He added with certainty, staring maniacally into Anakin’s eyes. 

Anakin kept on retreating as the dark being advanced on him. He wanted to turn and run, to look away, but he couldn’t. He was ensnared, horrified yet entranced by the way his Master was nowhere to be found in those blue eyes that seemed to become all consuming black holes. 

“I-I don’t understand,” Anakin stammered. It was a lie. He didn’t want to understand. Deep down he knew the truth of it. This was the monster that had forced himself on him the night before, the one that was slowly taking over his Master from the inside out.

“Oh, you’re such a pretty, simple thing. Of course you don’t.” The dark one said with a measure of feigned pity. “But I do have uses for simple things like you,” the man added with a sinister grin. 

Anakin took another step back before he ignited his saber and took a defensive stance. The man gave another brief yet hearty laugh. “You ignorant little Jedi.” He snarled indignantly yet somewhat amused. “You think you can even hope to defend yourself against a Sith Lord?” He cackled before turning serious. Everything about the dark soul before him was made up of churning duality. Elegance met with the harsh edge of a blade, such were his caustic smiles and beastly growls. 

Then the man’s eyes lit up in realization. “This is your Master’s body.” He stated in realization, sounding pleased. Perhaps it was logical conclusion, or the strike of fear in Anakin’s aura that had given him away. Either way it was no mystery to the Sith that stood before him, that looked right through him. 

“It is.” He said definitively with a hint of satisfaction. “He _told_ you to defend yourself.” He added with a sorry expression that quickly transmuted into another devilish grin. 

Anakin trembled as the quiet hum of his saber resounded through the empty forest. His eyes were wide, alert with fear. His lips were still, left with no words to say. There would be no last ditch effort to save himself from his Master. It was a losing battle because even if he could match the man’s skill, he would never hurt him. He would be damned by his attachments, just as he had been warned of his entire life in the temple. 

With a small chuckle, the dark one took Obi-wan’s saber in hand and keyed it on in kind. He studied it intensely, examining the hilt and blade as if it were something he had never seen the likes of before. 

“Interesting design, not at all what I prefer.” He said in a dissatisfied, near conversational tone. “And it’s most certainly the wrong color.” He mused, before his predatory stare trained on Anakin again. 

The dark one’s eyes lit up with cheerful malevolence as he smiled, pressing the edge of his saber against Anakins. A flicker of violent delight danced in his Master’s eyes just before the man pulled back, promptly leveling the saber for a killing blow aimed at Anakin’s neck. He deflected the hit, nearly missing the block entirely. 

Anakin’s heart raced, pounding hard in his chest as he continued to hold his saber high waiting for the next attack. “Is this what the Jedi have been reduced to now?” The man said sounding a trifle disappointed. 

Another lethal swing met with another desperate block. Without even trying the dark one was pushing Anakin to the limits of his training. “If all of _them_ are as weak as _you_ , defeating you all is going to be too easy.” The man grumbled as he sent a more leisurely swing at Anakin's torso, managing to slice through his clothes and sear his flesh. Anakin gritted his teeth against the pain. It was bright and sharp, he used it to hone his focus. 

Another series of strikes and parries sent Anakin moving ever backwards on the defensive as he strained just to keep up with the unnatural pace at which the dark one began to take. He wasn’t sure just how long he would be able to maintain his defenses, at the current rate his stamina was already beginning to fail him. Though when the dark one sent a solid force push his way sending him tumbling backwards, it ceased to matter. 

Anakin stared up at his Master as he held the tip of his saber just below his chin. His own saber was held out in hand, too far away to do any good. “Well I’ve bested you now, haven’t I?” The dark one snickered as his expression turned pensive. “What to do with you now, hmm?” 

Anakin’s stomach dropped at his words and their implication. “You can let me go.” He replied, trying to employ the force as his Master had taught him. Not that he truly expected such a simple trick to work on the mind of a Sith, but it was the only thing he could think of in the moment. 

But the man’s face changed. He disengaged his saber and took a step back. “I can let you go,” he changed blankly.

Seizing his change to escape, Anakin leapt to his feet. Before he could make a run for it the dark one slammed into him, crushing him up against a tree. His saber lie fallen on the ground, knocked from his grip in the unexpected impact. Now he was left with no weapon, not that he could have used it on him, anyway. 

The man trapped him in with his arms, bursting with sadistic glee. “You really are a simple thing, aren’t you?” He cooed, gripping Anakin’s jaw between his thumb and forefinger as he studied his face before turning him around and pressing his face into the coarse bark of the tree. 

Anakin struggled against his grip only to be handled more harshly. His face scraped against the rough bark leaving red scratches trailing across his face. Anakin could feel his Master’s body crush against his own, the man’s hardening erection grinding against him making his stomach feel sick. He hated his weakness, how the strength in his limbs seemed to leave him, how is body quaked and trembled. 

“What would your Master think of you now? So easily defeated,” The Sith growled as his hands roved over the edges of his body. “He would think you _wanted it._ ” 

Anakin’s heart fractured, compounded by the confusion of the night before. He didn’t want it, he felt sick, he wanted everything to stop. But the words of the dark one wormed their way past Anakin’s defenses as he felt himself crumble. 

He was weak in the Jedi Code, as well as physical and force strength. He was nothing. Tears of broken helplessness leaked out the corners of his eyes silently as he felt his body between his Master and the harsh bark of the tree, trapped. 

Soon the man’s hands began to pull at his leggings, inching them down his hips as Anakin fought his grip. Losing patience the dark one tore them at the seem revealing him entirely. Anakin’s core gripped with fear as a pang of desperation bolted through him. 

“No,” Anakin cried out, squirming as his Master’s body pressed against him harder, pinning him in place. 

“Oh, _Yes,_ ” The man growled, pressing his firm cock against his ass. “After all those years stuck inside that box, one could say i’ve been starved of flesh.” 

Anakin seemed to forget how to breathe as the dark one spat in his palm to wet himself before pressing his tip against his entrance. It was painful, still raw from the night before. He wished his Master would come back and save him, stop all this from happening. Obi-wan would never hurt him. 

“Master wake up!” Anakin cried out in a teary voice, “Please!” 

…….

Obi-wan came to his senses with a gnawing sense of want ebbing through his body. He didn’t understand what was happening, or how much time had passed. He was only aware of his stark erection against hot flesh, the feeling of his fingers digging into the edges of someone’s hips. 

But then his mind returned to the present as he came to the horrific realization that it was Anakin he was pressing himself against. It was his Padawan trembling tearfully in his grip as his body tensed against his Master, who remained on the verge of penetrating him. 

Quickly Obi-wan released Anakin from his grip, hastily covering himself as he took a brief survey of his student. His leggings were torn at the seams far past his hips which now were adorned with purple fingerprints where he had pressed too hard into his flesh, breaking the delicate vessels beneath his skin. 

Anakin slowly turned to press his back against the tree as he sheepishly pulled up at the edges of his leggings, a look of shame on his face that was too much than Obi-wan could bear. The gloss of fallen tears dotted his cheeks, one of which was red and raw with scratches. His eyes were distant and despondent from the trauma that he still had yet to make sense of.

The sight of him made Obi-wan’s stomach turn and his blood boil. He could feel the pain and hurt, the fear that swirled around him in his aura. It made Obi-wan want to rip his own heart out. He wanted to kill the beast that did this to him, but the only one he felt he could blame was himself. 

Anakin wouldn’t be safe as long as he was around. He needed to get as far away as possible from him. Whatever Sith thing lurked inside him was beyond his control. Contrary to his innate urge to go over to Anakin and make sure he was alright, Obi-wan retreated a few steps instead. 

He wanted nothing more than to dry his tears and hold him but knew better. Obi-wan wouldn’t be responsible for putting his own student in the proximity of such a horrid monster. A monster that he couldn’t protect him from even if he tried. One that Anakin most certainly couldn’t defend himself against. 

Anakin took deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself as his tears ceased. Obi-wan could feel his student fighting to stay objective, to calm down. Every second he had to watch Anakin struggle was torture.

He wanted to say something, to do anything, but didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Instead he looked around for one of their packs. Finding his makeshift shoulder bag a few paces away Obi-wan rummaged through it for a fresh set of leggings and promptly tossed them over to Anakin who caught them with an outstretched hand.

Obi-wan looked over, seeing Anakin look back with another hesitant expression as a blush rose up in his cheeks. Immediately understanding, he turned to look away so that he could change into the new set of leggings. 

Listening for the rustling of changing clothes to cease before he turned back around, Obi-wan waited a few more seconds to be on the safe side.

“Ok,” Anakin said quietly, giving his Master permission to turn. Obi-wan did, seeing his Padawan a fraction less timid in his new garment. It helped soothe the gaping wound in Obi-wan’s heart that hurt more than he knew how to handle. 

“I’m-” Obi-wan started and paused, halted by the sob that choked him. “I’m so sorry,” he said quietly as tears he didn’t even try to fight against blurred his vision.

“It’s ok,” Anakin said softly, looking at his Master then back at the ground below his feet. 

Obi-wan was both enraged and horrified all at the same time. It wasn’t okay, he should never have said such a thing. It couldn’t possibly be okay. He had no way to know for sure, but his mind was reeling with the possibilities of what might have happened. The things that he might have done to Anakin made him want to rip his heart out and bleed to death. It made his chest restrict with panic and his soul flare with anger. 

And in it all he couldn’t help but think, _he can’t even stand to look at me…_

Before Obi-wan could say a word, Anakin began to understand his Master’s racing thoughts. “You didn’t… I mean… Nothing happened, not like what you’re thinking.” Anakin said, obviously uncomfortable. 

Obi-wan looked over at his student to see his timorous demeanor, but he sensed what he said was true. Though he felt there was something else beneath them, he couldn’t help but feel relieved at his words. 

But it didn’t remove the fear completely. There was no way to know what exactly had transpired since he had no memory of any of it. “I didn’t-” Obi-wan started and was cut off by Anakin, who interjected fiercely. 

“No.” He stated, glancing up to meet his Master’s gaze with a soft yielding expression that Obi-wan thought he might have only seen one before in a vision. “I know you would never hurt me.” He said sincerely before looking back down to the ground. 

Caught off guard by the statement matched with that submissive glance, Obi-wan found himself with more questions than they had time for at the moment. But part of himself was glad that Anakin knew he would never hurt him, not intentionally. It wasn’t in him to ever see his Padawan suffer so needlessly. But there would only be more suffering, if they weren’t able to figure out their situation quickly.

“Anakin, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” Obi-wan said seriously, in his most strict Jedi Master-like voice in order to convey the gravity of their situation. As if Anakin hadn’t already known first hand the danger they faced. The danger that _he_ faced. 

“I need you to take both our lightsabers.” He commanded. Anakin silently nodded and did as he was told, calling both sabers to his hand and promptly stowing them on his belt. 

“Good.” Obi-wan commended, then paused. He still needed to come up with a plan, though he hadn’t quite gotten that far. Whatever it was coursing through his veins was either getting stronger with time or proximity to the temple. Possibly both. He didn’t want to risk losing control again. He didn’t want to think about what might happen if he did. 

If only there was something he could be bound with, then Anakin would have a head start when he lost consciousness again. It was inevitable. But there was no such equipment or material at their disposal. 

“You need to go back to the ship and call for help.” Obi-wan declared. There were no better alternatives. 

“And what are you going to do?” Anakin asked skeptically, returning to his usual demeanor by a fraction. 

“I… I don’t know.” Obi-wan said in a huff of frustration. “I don’t suspect I have long before I lose consciousness again. I suppose I’ll go to the temple and try to collect the Holocrons. I will be traveling in the opposite direction from you at least.” He said, feeling every bit as defeated as he sounded. 

“At least that way you’ll be safe.” Obi-wan added, the words cutting through his heart as he spoke them. 

Clearly angered by what his Master suggested, Anakin shook his head in disagreement. “You can’t go to the temple, Master. That’s what they _want_ you to do.”

Obi-wan furrowed his brows in concern as his heart crested of another wave of panic. “What are you talking about?”

Anakin’s confidence dwindled slightly as he revisited the event. “That’s what he said. That we set him free.” Then he paused, his face twisted pensively. “But I don’t think it’s complete. It seemed like there’s something else he needs us to do. Where else would that be except the temple?” 

Obi-wan felt like he had been hit over the head with a durasteel bar. “ _He?_ ”

Anakin nodded, eyes cast downwards. “The Sith Lord.”

“The-the Sith _Lord?_ ” Obi-wan stammered, aghast. How could such a dark entity penetrate through his carefully built defenses to take him over so completely? It was nearly impossible. Only, it wasn’t. Whatever venom had been injected through his wound must have made him vulnerable. 

“What else did he say?” Obi-wan asked, hoping there might have been more information to go off of. 

“Something about defeating the Jedi. No specifics.” Anakin mumbled. “And something about being locked in a box for a long time.” 

“Well it’s consistent with the descriptions of the holocrons we were sent to retrieve.” Obi-wan nodded. 

“We can’t finish the mission, Master. If you go in there, who knows what sort of hell you’ll unleash? What if that Sith takes over your body for good? There’s too much we don’t know. You can’t go.” Anakin insisted, looking up into his Master’s eyes fiercely. 

“We can’t both go back to the ship. I can’t keep you near me, it’s not safe.” Obi-wan said with a bout of guilt weighing down his heart. 

“We can make it work. I’ll be fine.” Anakin said with shaky resolve. “Besides it’s possible you’re getting worse as we get closer to the temple. It stands to reason you might get better if you go in the opposite direction.” 

“It’s too risky.” Obi-wan said, shaking his head with dissent. “We can’t afford to stand here bickering like this. There’s no time.” 

“What’s risky is you going to the temple alone.” Anakin countered with rising heat in his voice. “To hell with the mission. We need to get off this rock.”

“We just need to take a moment and clear our minds. Neither of us are thinking clearly.” Obi-wan said with a dejected sigh. 

Anakin was right. Chances were the closer they went to the temple, whatever control the Sith had over him would only get stronger. It must have been remote. If he were to make contact with the Holocron of the Sith that was using him, he might be lost entirely. But nothing was certain, and he didn’t want to risk being near to Anakin when he lost consciousness again. To make matters worse, it was nearly impossible to think clearly about anything at all with circumstances being what they were. How could he not be emotionally involved?

“I think I have an idea.” Anakin said earnestly with a look of determination in his eyes. “We’ll both go back to the transport. You’ll take the lead. The last time the Sith took control you were stuck for a few seconds. So if you stop or pause, i’ll start running. I should have enough of a head start to be able to keep going until you come back.” 

“That’s a terrible idea.” Obi-wan said, running a hand over his face with distress. 

“Do you have any better ideas?” Anakin said challengingly. “No? I didn’t think so.” 

“If we’re going to do this,” Obi-wan started, pained by the weight of his words. “Promise me. If the Dark Side takes me completely-” 

“It won’t.” Anakin said stubbornly. 

“But if it does-” 

“I said it _won’t._ ” Anakin ground out. 

Obi-wan sighed. “We can’t afford to be willfully ignorant, Anakin. For me, If you love me,” he said as his chest constricted. “Don’t let me go on like that.” 

Anakin’s eyes began to gloss over as he clenched his fists with something that seemed like both anger and helplessness. “In the unlikely event of that happening... I’ll take care of it.” 

“Thank you.” Obi-wan sighed, feeling both relieved and burdened. It wasn’t right to hold attachments over his Padawan’s head in such a way. Especially when love was something that had never been mentioned between the two of them.

Not that he didn’t care about Anakin. He did. And even before this horrid place and all of the confusion that it had put into their relationship, he had loved him. It was why he always tried so hard to be the Master that Anakin deserved. 

But the word love had powerful implications with roots in attachment. It was manipulative to use it in such a way. It hurt Obi-wan to have said what he did, though he didn’t regret it. What he did regret was never telling Anakin before all this, how much he did love him.

Because he didn’t think he could bring himself to say it now. It seemed dirty, tarnished by what happened between them, by the things he allowed himself to do to Anakin in his vision. Maybe after this whole ordeal, they might have a chance to talk through some of it. But for now, they didn’t have time for such luxuries. 

Without another word, Obi-wan set out through the brush ahead of Anakin in the direction of the ship. He could hear his Padawan’s footsteps follow a short distance behind. 

In the silence that brewed between them, Obi-wan couldn’t help but think about the things that neither of them had really spoken about. The terrible thing that had happened to Anakin that he didn’t even want to put words to. Anakin may have wanted to brush it off and say it was alright, but Obi-wan knew better. If he felt so truly awful, he could only imagine how his Padawan felt. 

Though for the moment, it seemed like neither of them were giving themselves the time to process any of it. And it made sense. They were still in the thick of it. Both of them needed to be on guard.


	7. Illusions

Anakin trekked through the brush behind his Master for hours with no words passing between them, though their bond was anything but silent. It wasn’t so much words, and it rarely ever was to begin with. It was a general sense of unease mixed with turmoil and heartache that could be felt by both men. It was difficult to sense how much of it originated from either one of them at this point. 

Typically Anakin would have been the source of such unrest, and Obi-wan the point of peace and tranquility. Though at the moment he could offer no such thing. Anakin didn’t expect him to, though his presence was enough to help keep him centered as much as he could possibly be.

And being centered meant being on high alert, which wasn’t so hard to do with circumstances being what they were. For the first few hours, Anakin was expecting his Master to be taken over by the Sith Lord at any given moment. Between keeping his attention out for any possible lurking monsters and keeping tabs on his Master, he had little time to let his focus stray. 

Though as hours passed and they put more distance between themselves and the Sith temple without incident, Anakin began to believe his hopeful prediction had been correct. It seemed that the further they were away from the temple, the Sith’s grip on his Master was beginning to lessen. 

But Anakin didn’t speak about it, or anything else. Because as he began to feel reassured and his level of panic began to lessen, his mind began to wander over other things. It was haunting how the dark one usurped his Master’s form to hurt him, how Obi-wan’s pure eyes could be turned to pools of wicked vile intent. Even more confusing was the things that the Sith had done to him. More specifically the things that had happened the night prior. 

Although he wasn’t sure how to feel about it, Anakin already knew. He had felt the transition from violence to tenderness. He had just never expected that from his Master. Anakin couldn’t shake those images from his mind along with the memory of how Obi-wan had made him feel. As he thought of it he could still feel the tempest of clashing emotions in his chest. It had never really left. 

It simply undulated, waxed and waned. Right now it was all he could feel. The roaring all consuming storm that filled his mind with things he could never ask. Anakin wasn’t sure what was more painful- to continue to let all the unspoken questions fester, or to find the nerve to ask them? 

For now he kept silent as they continued trekking onwards towards the ship. Obi-wan had glanced down at his datapad a handful of times. They were definitely headed in the right direction but the question as to whether or not their transport would still be there remained to be answered. 

So they continued their journey even as the sun began to set overhead. Wary of the silence, Anakin finally spoke. “Can you see the ship transponder on the map readout yet?” He asked, feeling his voice creak from so many hours without talking. 

Obi-wan pulled the data pad out and gave a heavy sigh. “No, not yet. Though it could just be a faulty sensor. There’s no need to be thinking the worst.” 

“It’s difficult to be optimistic in this place.” Anakin replied grimly. 

“I know.” Obi-wan said in a quiet voice. 

Anakin could both hear and feel the shame and burdensome guilt in his Master’s aura. He didn’t want him to feel that way, but he could understand it. It’s not as if he could tell him to not feel those things. To try and ignore emotions didn’t seem to work well for him so he wasn’t about to tell his Master to do that. 

So he would use distraction instead. “How’s your shoulder feeling?” Anakin asked, trying to lighten the mood. 

Obi-wan shrugged and flexed his arm, feeling it out and examining it. “Not so bad I suppose. Though the discoloration seems to be spreading.” He added with dread. 

“The healers will know what to do. They’ll fix you up as good as new.” Anakin answered back hopefully. 

“Well it’s like you said. It’s difficult to think optimistically.” Obi-wan answered back in something that sounded like his usual sarcasm shaded with defeat. Anakin could sense something inside the man, something heavy and overwhelming. A tumor growing and becoming unbearable.

Anakin wanted to take it all away from him. Obi-wan was practically perfect, he didn’t need to feel that way. His Master had always been the pinnacle of stability and patience. He had been kind and understanding, more than anyone else in the Temple had ever been with him. He didn’t deserve to be weighed down by darker things. 

In a few lengthy paces Anakin caught up to his Master. Quickly Obi-wan turned around with a look of fearful irritation. “Anakin, you’re supposed to be keeping a distance. It’s not safe.” 

“Don’t you think if anything was going to happen, it would have happened by now?” Anakin answered back with equal frustration. 

“We can’t afford to assume.” Obi-wan retorted angirly. 

Anakin clenched his jaw with irritation. Why did his Master always have to be so obstinate? Without giving so much as a second for him to move away, Anakin wrapped his arms around his Master tightly. He could feel Obi-wan’s aura, the light that streamed out from the center of it. It was nothing at all like the darkness that emanated from the Sith Lord. It was true, pure and good even while under burden of guilt. It was a relief to his soul. 

“You didn’t hurt me, Obi-wan. It’s not your fault.” Anakin said, feeling a boulder removed from his chest as he spoke. 

Though his Master seemed to absorb all the guilt that had fallen from his shoulders. Anakin could feel Obi-wan’s aura swell with shame and panic. Not at all the reaction he had been hoping for. 

“We can discuss this later when you’re not in danger. This isn’t the time.” Obi-wan said bluntly yet hastily as he broke free from his Padawan’s grip as gently as he could without shoving him away too harshly.

Anakin felt a knife tear at his heart as his Master spoke, as he physically pushed him away. “ _I’m sorry_ ,” Anakin said with a tremor in his voice as he pushed back against the tears. “I just don’t want you to blame yourself. It’s not your fault,” Anakin cried out on the edge of a sob, surprised by the surge of emotion that pushed past his defenses. 

“Oh Anakin,” Obi-wan said softly as he pulled him into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice bated against tears. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

Anakin relished the feeling of his Master’s embrace. It soothed his heartache, the tempest that crowded his chest with too much conflict. For once his mind felt still and calm. 

“Let’s just get off this world, and get back home.” Anakin answered back with a sniffle. 

“My thoughts exactly.” Obi-wan responded, giving him one last squeeze before letting him go. 

“Master?” Anakin started, suddenly worried as a thought entered his mind. 

“Yes?” Obi-wan replied kindly, his gentle blue eyes filled with compassion. 

“When we get back to the temple, what’s going to happen? If the council knows what happened, about what the Sith did, they’ll make me someone else’s Padawan, won’t they?” Anakin asked as his heart thudded against his ribs. They couldn’t take him away from his Master, could they? 

“I don’t know.” Obi-wan replied sadly yet honestly.

“We can’t tell them. I can’t lose you Master, you’re all I have.” Anakin begged, his heart raw and exposed as he lingered on the verge of another bout of tears. “Please promise you won’t tell them. _Please._ ”

Obi-wan paused, another drift of guilt and contemplation stirring in his aura. Anakin could see the reluctance in his body language, worn upon his beautiful facial features. “I promise,” he said warily, quickly changing the subject. “Now let’s keep on going. We have quite a bit longer to go before we reach the transport.” 

His assurance was enough to keep Anakin’s fear of abandonment at bay for the time being. “Is it safe to keep going in the dark?” Anakin asked, already knowing his Master’s answer.

“It’s our only option.” Obi-wan said firmly. “However if we keep on at this pace, we should make it to the transport just after dawn.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Anakin said, feeling a wave of relief wash over him at the thought. Putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the planet sounded like a prudent course of action.

“As do I.” Obi-wan said with a hopeful voice. The tinge of optimism however slight it may have been made Anakin’s heart feel assured. 

The two of them kept on again, this time only a few paces apart rather than the distance they had been keeping before. Anakin was glad to be closer to his Master, in spite of their circumstances he didn’t want to be too far away from Obi-wan. At this point he felt mostly assured that the Sith was gone for good, especially as they had put such a significant distance between themselves and the temple. 

The sun had fallen far past the lush green horizon when Anakin felt a biting sense of fear pry at his chest. He thought he might have heard something in the distance. He had to stay objective, chances were it was all in his head. But then, a grating cackle filled the air, making his shoulders tight with nervous tension. 

“Did you hear that?” Anakin asked, his eyes darting about the darkened landscape they traversed. 

Obi-wan kept on walking as if he had said nothing. His Master didn’t turn his head to look at him, or even nod or shake his head in answer. His feet kept on marching forwards methodically, mechanically. 

Anakin reached his hand out towards the man to catch his attention, but was halted by the sound of whispers that rose up in the air, as if a breeze had picked up and rustled the leaves of the trees around them. Only the air was still as it had ever been, not a draft or slight drifting breeze to be felt. 

Obi-wan turned to face him. Anakin’s heart stopped as his insides turned to acid. 

“No,” Anakin lamented with a hollow core, as empty as his Master’s eyes. Where jewel blue had once graced the mans face, were now empty holes, blackened sockets like the monster they had seen. 

The beast smiled. “You thought you could get away?” He said in a pitiful tone, the voice even further from the sound of his Master’s gentle cadence than it had been before. The whispering voices seemed to giggle and laugh, entertained by Anakin’s fear. 

He shook his head in horror as a chill ran down his spine. The face of his Master had become ashen, just like the flesh around his shoulder. Dark lines spread throughout his features contorting what was once light, into a twisted perversion of darkness. The moonlight he basked in seemed to make everything more insidious, inescapable.

Anakin might have said something, anything, but felt it all futile. He looked on at the man with begging eyes as sparse fearful tears spilled down his face, stinging the scratches on his cheek. The whispers evaporated, leaving an ominous silence in its wake.

“You have two lightsabers. I’m unarmed. Are you really so incapable of defending yourself?” The Sith chided as Anakin walked backwards into a tree, trapped once again by the sick monster. The smell of decaying flesh filling the air with its putrid stink.

“I can’t.” Anakin cried as his body tensed. 

His Master came close, snarling into his ear. “When i’m done with you, you’ll have learned your place, _young one._ ” 

Anakin cringed against the contact, but then it vanished. Where the Sith had cornered him was only empty air. Anakin looked in the distance, seeing the silhouette of his Master a few paces away from where he stood. 

Quickly Anakin righted himself, wiping his tears and brushing off his clothing as if it would help rid himself of the bone chilling terror this place inspired. He had to be strong for his Master. He was safe, safe enough anyways. What he had just seen wasn’t real. It was just this place trying to get to him. He wasn’t about to let it win. 

“Anakin?” Obi-wan called after him, his voice heavy with unease. 

“I’m fine Master, it’s nothing.” He replied, quickly taking pace by Obi-wan’s side. He tried to hide the hint of apprehension in being close to the man this time. Before he had been positive his Master was out of the grip of that Sith. Now, he wasn’t so sure. He wanted to be, but with that dreadful image still fresh in his mind, it was difficult to be so convinced. 

…….

“No,” Anakin’s voice rang out, small and scared. Obi-wan could hear the boy’s footsteps stop as a shade of terror colored the edge of his aura in a sickening darkness. Obi-wan turned back to face his Padawan, seeing him recede back into the darkness of the forest.

Obi-wan didn’t think he had ever seen the boy so degraded, reduced to nothing but a quivering thing at the whims of whatever monster he was being made to see. Though it didn’t take Obi-wan much imagination to know what it most likely was. This place used your worst fears against you. 

“I can’t,” Anakin cried out desperately, not even taking a saber in hand to defend himself. That confirmed the very thing Obi-wan’s heart wrenched to know. The terror he was being made to see, was his own Master turn against him. 

And sure, perhaps it wasn’t truly him. But his hands were the ones that had hurt Anakin, his body the one that pressed in on him when he wanted him to stop. It would be his face that the boy would see when he thought of that trauma. Nothing Obi-wan could say or do would take away from that fact. 

“Anakin,” Obi-wan called out apprehensively, mindful to keep a polite distance. 

“I’m fine Master, it’s nothing.” Anakin said as he regained his senses. In no time at all, Anakin took step by his Master’s side as if nothing had happened. Obi-wan couldn’t see his face as they kept on moving, and he couldn’t see much at all by the dim light of the moon. But he could feel Anakin’s hesitation, the fear to be close to him. It hurt Obi-wan to know there was nothing that could be done about it. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be made right. No matter how much he wished it were so. 

Obi-wan’s skin crawled with aversion to think about his body being used by Sith forces, against his own Padawan. What was Master Yoda thinking when he demanded Anakin go with him? It didn’t have as much to do with Anakin not being ready as much as it had to do with the dangers of the place. Most of them being unknown of course, until they had arrived. Master Yoda would have had no way to know the horrors that awaited them. But Obi-wan couldn’t help but hold a strand of anger against him for his mandate If only he hadn’t insisted, then Anakin would never have been hurt. 

Or was he more angry with himself for the pleasure he was forced to feel as he came to his senses? That awful moment he felt himself on the verge of forcing himself on his Padawan. How the boy had shuddered and cowered against him. 

Obi-wan thought he should be stronger, should have been able to resist the machinations of the Sith demon that had been set against him. But instead he was a week puppet, waiting for the Darkness to take him over, to hurt Anakin again.

He didn’t want to hurt him, he could barely stand to touch him, let alone look at him without feeling gut wrenching pain and grief. It was all made worse by the way he let himself unleash on Anakin inside the confines of that terrible vision. He should have never let himself go so far. Even within the mind, it weighed on him terribly when compounded by the horror of what had transpired that afternoon. It was wrong, it was all wrong. 

Anakin was his student, someone to raise and teach and help support. He wasn’t someone to be used and taken advantage of. He meant so much more than that. Everything that had happened to him, both in Obi-wan’s mind and in actuality put an insurmountable distance between the two of them. And it was all Obi-wan’s fault. Maybe if he hadn’t let himself indulge in that flight of fantasy, perhaps then he would have better moral footing in all of this. 

Or perhaps this was exactly what the Sith wanted, to tear them apart from the very base of their bond. If it was, Obi-wan had to admit it was working. Anakin was so vulnerable and needy to begin with. This was just adding a whole new dimension to his insecurities and fears. Obi-wan had never been completely sure he would be able to cure the lesser of the boy’s problems. But this, he knew he couldn’t fix. 

The only way to even begin to try was to get off the planet for good. Obi-wan hated the thought of abandoning the mission, but didn’t know what else to do. They truly had no other choice. There were too many unknown factors. The very nature of how the council even came to know about the planet needed to be better investigated if they were to unveil the larger threat at hand. It was all too possible that whoever had brought the existence of the planet to light, only meant for them to unleash a horde of Sith back into existence. Much of the other necessary information might have been willfully withheld. Of course that was all very much a stretch of the imagination, but somehow not too far fetched, either. They did live in dangerous times, the rise of the Jedi Order had been nearly uncontested for several hundreds of years.

It would make sense for the Chosen One to exist amidst a rising darkness. Why else would there be a call for balance? Obi-wan could only hope that Anakin hadn’t been too traumatized by their experiences on the Sith world. Not that he could ever hope to even imagine what it was that the boy was going through. And then, there was the fact that it wasn’t even over. 

It would continue to linger, hover over him until they both reached the Jedi temple. Or at least until they made it off world. Maybe then Anakin would be able to put him in a pair of binders and keep him in some sort of makeshift brig. That way he would be able to mostly guarantee his safety until they reached Coruscant. After all, Anakin was more than capable to pilot both of them home safely. 

Obi-wan pulled out the data pad and studied the read out again. As they trekked ever closer, the space where their ship ought to have been continued to read as empty. As much as he didn’t want to give into it, dread washed over him in tumultuous waves. He knew it was as much a part of the Sith trap as anything else they had experienced in this place, but it did little to take the apprehension away from him. 

“Are we almost there, Master?” Anakin asked, his quiet voice slicing through the dead air of the night. 

“We are set to arrive just after dawn. So that sets us about six hours out.” Obi-wan replied with tangible exhaustion that he tried not to give power to. The night couldn’t be over soon enough. 

Another silence fell over the two of them for a short while. Obi-wan could feel the air between the two of them grow thick with unspoken words. Anakin was rife with conflict and turmoil as he ever had been. Of course he was. The boy relied on him far to much to begin with, without all the extra confusion to make everything worse. 

Obi-wan wasn’t feeling like such a pillar of strength himself, either. Between the sound of footsteps and their breath in the night air, all he could think about were things he would much rather have forgotten. He could recall all too well, the feel of Anakin’s warm flesh under his hands as he gripped his naked body, as he thrust inside of him greedily. It was a moment of unforgivable passion and weakness, even if it had never actually happened. It made him want things he shouldn’t have wanted. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to forget. 

But he needed to. He would have to. Surely it was this place, making every weakness and niche in his defenses that much more vulnerable. Perhaps it was the decaying rot that had set in his shoulder, eroding his will to cling to the light. It had to have been some outside Sith influence, an artifact that was nearby. Something else outside of himself had to be the cause for the desire that grew without restraint. A desire that soon felt as if it were becoming a need. 

Each ounce of lustful want was countered with an equal amount of shame and self loathing. He needed to be better than this, needed to be stronger. He couldn’t be seriously struggling with such things. Every pang of need was met with a knife of regret and horror stabbing through his chest. 

It might have been easier if Anakin hadn’t been so beautiful, if he had been even a fraction less so. If he were any less needy, any less willful or stubborn, it might have been easier. But he was beautiful, even more so as he lay on his back void of anything to cover a single inch of his flawless porcelain skin. The glint of satisfaction in his sapphire eyes still sent a shiver down Obi-wan’s spine as he thought of it. 

But how could he think such things about his own Padawan? It had to be the Sith ground on which they tread, desperately fleeing to their transport which he could only hope was still a viable craft. At the very least perhaps they could send a message off world. Even if the transport were mangled, Anakin was more than capable of rigging a com to transmit well enough. 

But they were hours away still, and the lecherous want slowly became a burning need, a desire to have Anakin the way he had in his vision. To have him in all ways that he should never have even been capable of thinking of. But as he placed one foot in front of the other, it seemed to be _all_ he could think of. 

In a desperate attempt to stave off his sinful thoughts, Obi-wan tried to open himself up to the light as much as he could, as much as it would reach him in such a cursed place as this. As soon as he did, a searing pain lanced through his shoulder sending bolts of lightning down his arm and throughout his chest. 

Unable to quell his reaction, Obi-wan stopped dead in his tracks as he let out a shout of pain while he gripped at his wounded shoulder. The shock of it nearly sent him tumbling to his knees, but he was able to keep himself upright. 

“Master!” Anakin shouted in distress as he rushed in close, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. 

Quickly Obi-wan shrugged away from the contact. It wasn’t safe. Not only was there the Sith presence to be concerned of, but now his own cognisant wants were ones to be contended with. Obi-wan wasn’t sure how much contact he could endure from the boy without becoming overly consumed by his desires. It was a shameful state to be in, but that didn’t keep him from being aware of the dire reality of the situation. He couldn’t trust himself. 

“I’m fine, it’s nothing, I promise.” Obi-wan said through clenched teeth as the wound continued to throb and ache. 

“Master, you’re not fine. Let me help you,” Anakin begged, putting more hands on him, trying to get Obi-wan to let him look at his shoulder. Roughly, Anakin tried to pull the upper layers of his tunics off to get to the site of the wound. 

A flash of images burst through his mind, all the things Obi-wan wanted so badly. All of his desires made more fervid by Anakin’s hands pulling on his outer garments. Oh how badly he wanted to tear through the boy’s clothes and have him all to himself. It made him sick just to think about how close he was to giving in. He couldn’t, it wasn’t right. It was all wrong. How could he be pushed to the brink so easily? He needed to be better. Anakin deserved better. 

After a brief pause, Obi-wan tore out of Anakin’s grip. “Get your hands off of me,” Obi-wan spat out coarsely, fighting the lewd thoughts and images that he seemed to have less and less control over as the moment drug on.

Anakin took a step back, slightly taken by surprise at his Master’s gruff demeanor with him. “Alright, fine,” Anakin said back, taking offense. 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-wan said, immediately relenting. “It’s just not safe to be getting so close.”

“It’s fine, I understand Master.” Anakin answered quietly as they resumed trekking towards their destination.

But he didn’t understand. How could he? There was no way he could even begin to know the well of untapped desire that grew inside of him. Not even Obi-wan himself wanted to acknowledge it. All he could hope was that it would get better with time, and distance from the wretched planet. It _had_ to have been the the Sith getting to him. He would never struggle with such things without being affected detrimentally by that monsters venom, compounded by the ancient Sith artifacts scattered throughout the land. But the cause of his horrid desires didn’t change the reality of them in the moment. 

But then, in the midst of his internal struggle, Anakin put a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder, pulling back for him to stop. Obi-wan turned to face him with anger equal to the passion that filled his veins. 

Obi-wan wanted to tell him to keep his hands to himself, to keep walking and keep quiet, but he was stopped before he could even say a word. There was a look of deft yearning in Anakin’s eyes, a sparkle of daring charisma. It was everything that fueled the burning desire in Obi-wan, and nothing he had expected. 

Obi-wan looked at him with a confused and terrified stare. Anakin returned with a sly chuckle. “Don’t you know how to take what you want, already?” The young man said daringly, his eyes narrowing with his words. 

Obi-wan felt paralyzed as much by his own treacherous chemical drives as he was by Anakin’s sudden change of demeanor. Anakin smiled devilishly, biting at his lower lip slightly before he continued. “I know you want to fuck me like you did the other night. What’s stopping you?” 

“What are you talking about?” Obi-wan asked quietly, fearfully. 

Anakin put hands on his shoulders, trailing down to his hips. “You know what i’m talking about,” the boy accused as his eyes wandered over his Master’s form. 

“It… It wasn’t real, it was a vision,” Obi-wan said in a panic, his words shaded with desperate trepidation. But his body was on fire, waiting for the last of his will to break. Waiting for the delicious moment he would tear the clothes off of him, taste every inch of his skin, feel every part of him. 

Obi-wan closed his eyes and shook his head, as if to dislodge the shameful thoughts from taking root. Blinking back open he saw Anakin standing before him, his hands no longer gripping his hips with want. On his face was a look of apprehension, confusion, shame. It was the Sith playing their tricks, again. Obi-wan had long since tired of their devilish illusions, prying into the worst parts of his mind. 

“What are you talking about Master?” Anakin asked, bewildered. 

Obi-wan blanched. “Nothing… It’s nothing,” he chanted, afraid to ask the question that haunted his mind. 

_It wasn’t real. We never, I never…_


	8. Ritual

Anakin watched his Master as the color bled from his face. “It… It wasn’t real, it was a vision,” Obi-wan insisted, the warring conflict between what he wanted to believe, and reality, tearing him apart from the inside. A whirlwind of emotion carried in his aura, unlike what Anakin had ever seen in him.

Anakin might have questioned what burdened the man, but he felt the unmistakable surge of passion flare from his Master’s core. He saw a flash of the thing that tormented him. It brought a sudden fierce blush into his cheeks, and uncertainty into his heart. 

“What are you talking about, Master?” Anakin asked, trying to swallow the shy fear that gripped him. Obi-wan had thought it all a vision, the night he had tasted him. Anakin could feel the truth of it broadcasting loudly from the storm that raged in his aura. 

To Obi-wan, it wasn’t real. Just a vision, a dream. A place to do and feel, unrestrained by reality. So he had done the things he wanted to do, acted on the desires he would have never given any credence to. To Obi-wan, it had never happened. Because he would never do such a thing. How could he?

But he did. His Master had kissed him, touched him so softly, made him feel things that one one had ever made him feel. To him, it never happened. Somehow that hurt Anakin more than anything else, more than the Sith that had held him down with his Master’s body, more than all the beatings he had ever received in his entire life. 

“Nothing… It’s nothing.” Obi-wan said dismissively as he pressed forwards through the brush hastily, as if to leave his demons behind. 

But it wasn’t nothing. Anakin trailed after his Master with a few stray, silent tears falling down his face. His Master’s words echoed on loop in his mind. 

_It’s nothing._

It was everything. 

It was a collection of firsts that would never be replaced. They had been squandered, used up and thrown away. They didn’t mean anything. First kiss, first time someone felt inside of him, spilled inside of him. First time someone removed his clothes, touched him so intimately. 

First time someone had held him down and forced themselves on him. But not the first time he was made to feel pain for the pleasure of another, nor the first time he cried at the hands of an abuser. Nor did he sense it would be the last. 

But for all of it, he felt alone, betrayed. Obi-wan said it was nothing. That was far from the truth.

 _Damn the Sith, damn this entire planet,_ Anakin thought, giving a heaving sigh as he continued to press on through the darkness towards their transport. Before they had set foot on Kraysiss Two, their relationship had been rocky. Although for all of their problems they had shared what might be called, a typical bond between Padawan and Master. Now what existed between them was becoming a tangled up mess of emotions, of things that should have never happened, things that he wanted so badly to understand.

…….

Obi-wan felt the world around him spin. His Padawan looked back at him with concern. It made him feel sick with shame and dread. Had he? No, he would never, never ever hurt Anakin in such a way.

But they boy’s aura turned and receded inwards. There was something written across his face that Obi-wan felt even more horrified for perceiving. Obi-wan felt as if the ground had given way beneath him, as if he were in an unrestrained freefall, everything he thought he knew about himself unraveling under his skin.

He wanted to ask, he needed to know. But right now it wouldn’t change a thing, not in the moment. Possibly, it would only make things so much worse. Besides, it had to be all false. He wasn’t capable of such atrocities, it wasn’t in him. That’s why his palms were sweating, shaking as he thought about it. It was the reason why his stomach felt full of lead, his heart swollen, choking on adrenaline. 

Obi-wan took a deep breath and pressed on, keeping his feet marching, one after the other towards the transport. Only a few hours away now, not too long. They would leave all of this behind them, never speak of it. Never think of it. If only he could keep it all from his mind. 

Those things he had done in the freedom of his vision, they weren’t real. But they would haunt him, just like they did now. Tainting his world, tainting how he saw the innocent soul he had been charged to teach and protect. 

His shoulders tensed as whispers sounded in the distance, ones he was sure only he could hear. They were taunting him, judging him, perhaps they were only in his head. Maybe he was going mad. Maybe they just needed to leave, and everything would return to normal. 

Choosing to believe the latter, he kicked up the pace into a brisk walk as they tread through the brush, hour after hour. He was fueled by his own horror, his own fear, as he tried to leave his own shameful thoughts behind him. 

Finally, the cold air of night began to grow warm and tepid with the approaching sunrise. The demons that chanted and whispered dissolved into silence. With it, Obi-wan breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps they were terrified of the light that would grace the crust of the cursed world for hours at a time. They were afraid of the light, like children afraid of the dark, afraid of the monsters that would hide beyond sight. 

As the light grew brighter, illuminating all around them in its dusky orange glow, Obi-wan felt himself like that child, afraid of the dark. Because here, there were monsters just beyond sight. Some of them were never to be seen, some of them were ghastly to lay eyes on. And some lived inside oneself in pictures, sounds, vivid experiences that would be better left forgotten. 

Forcing himself to remain objective, Obi-wan pulled the small map readout from his tunic, still seeing no promise of where their transport ought to have been, though they were nearing the landing zone quickly. Anakin, who had been silent, his aura shrunken, piped up. 

“Master, I see it!” Anakin called out happily. It warmed Obi-wan’s heart to hear joy in his voice once more. Softly glinting through the trees in the space of the small field just beyond lie their transport settled just as they had left it. “Finally, we’re getting out of here,” Anakin said, his voice ever colored with relief. 

Obi-wan quickened his pace to meet up with Anakin who sprinted past him, a lively spring in his step as he did. Perhaps stirred by breaking out into a jog his body hadn’t been ready for, Obi-wan’s shoulder lit up with bright bain that stilled his breath for a moment. As quickly as he could, he walked out into the clearing as the ramp to their ship descended, the autopilot cycling the lift sequence as it had been programmed to do. 

Anakin cast his bag to the floor of the small transport, Obi-wan doing the same only a few paces behind him. He could see the determination and purpose in his Padawan’s body language, a huge improvement to his spirits as of late. 

Quickly the two of them climbed into the cockpit, a small dome enclosure with only enough space for two. Disengaging the autopilot, Obi-wan gripped the controls. The cold metal of the yolk felt foreign and refreshing under his soiled hands. Suddenly he became too aware of how badly he needed a shower and fresh clothes. 

All things in good time, he thought. He could hardly be so distracted with trivialities when they still had yet to take off and get away from the place that had caused the both of them so much distress. 

“Anakin, get ahold of the temple, let them know we were forced to abandon the mission and that we need assistance right away.” Obi-wan ordered as he switched on the thrusters, the small craft making a shaky liftoff from the grassy field below. 

“Way ahead of you Master,” Anakin said, looking intensely at the com controls, quickly re-configuring the transmitter and tuning it to reach deep space. Anakin was always useful in a pinch, he always did his best work under pressure. 

Obi-wan smiled, glancing quickly in Anakin’s direction before he forced his stare straight forward again. He was proud of him, for everything he had been through, for how strong he was. But still the raw image of him unclothed and writhing flashed in his mind, wiping the smile off Obi-wan’s face, making him sick.

Better to stay focused, everything else could wait till after. After they put as much distance as possible between themselves and Kraysiss two. Hopefully with it, those damning thoughts would fade. 

“Something’s not right,” Anakin said, his voice warbling from the turbulence of low atmospheric flight. 

Obi-wan felt his mind go foggy, his hands loosening on the yolk. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but Anakin continued on. 

“There must be something wrong with the antena, if we circle back and land I can take a look at it.” Anakin said, turning to his Master.

Obi-wan saw him in his peripheral vision, which began to grow dark as his skin became chilled. “No,” he said, straining with effort to command his lips to move, to keep his hands gripping the yolk. “We can’t…” 

_We don’t have time to stop, we need to get as far away from here as we can,_ Obi-wan thought, his lips failing to continue as even his own cognizance began to dim. He strained against the darkness that swam over his consciousness, but was powerless against it as everything went black. 

…….

“No. We can’t,” Obi-wan said, as Anakin continued to study the com panel, hoping he had been wrong, but knowing he wasn’t. 

Anakin’s focus was shaken as the ship dipped slightly towards the planet below. He looked over to see his master slacking at the controls, his body slumped over to the side. His eyes trailed off aimless and empty. His aura inverted, making way for the dark presence to take hold of him again. 

Anakin's stomach sank as he looked out the wide viewscreen before them, seeing the Sith temple rising ahead. They were supposed to be climbing in orbit, but the ship hadn’t risen fast enough to keep far enough away from the temple. They were too close, and his Master was gone.

With quick reflexes Anakin moved to take hold of the yolk. All they needed was to get far enough away, then his Master would come back to him. He took the steel in his hands, wrenching back on the controls as their ship made a sharp upward turn. The thrust tore mercilessly at his shoulder as he reached across, all of his strength focused on pulling out of the atmosphere. 

The Sith regained control of his Master’s body too soon. His Master’s hands slammed the yolk back down harshly. Anakin fought against him, every bit of will and force he could employ contending against his Master’s strength, and the force prowess of the Sith that inhabited his body. 

He quickly realized he was no match, not even close. The Sith lashed out at him, sending a wall of force through his body, slamming him against the opposite end of the cockpit. Anakin’s head cracked hard against the metal of the wall, breaking the skin of his temple making his focus grow hazy. The Dark One snarled in wild laughter, not even bothering to speak a word in his amusement. 

Knowing it was too late to try and regain control of their ship, Anakin fumbled to strap himself into the copilots crash couch before they made impact. He closed his eyes as the ground came closer, too close. The Sith continued to laugh maniacally, perverting his Master’s voice with dark, wicked intent. 

The jolt of impact sent shockwaves through Anakin’s body, shoving him back into the chair. The sick wrenching creak of metal amidst the roar of soil rushing against their hull vibrated through him as the straps of his harness dug into his flesh, bruising him badly. He couldn’t feel much of it in the moment, but he could sense a growing list of injuries that would make it increasingly difficult to put up a fight. 

The craft sank down into the terra as they slowed to a halt, the sound of forest and soil upheaval rumbling down into a silence as they stopped. In the after shock of the trauma, as he clung to consciousness with every ounce of strength, Anakin couldn’t help but be surprised at how well the ship had held up. 

Not wasting a moment, the Sith pulled himself together and quickly released Anakin’s harness, violently dragging him up and out of the wreckage. The flaming smoldering mess of what had been their transport looked strange in the early morning’s light. Anakin didn’t have much time to think on it as the Sith yanked on his arm again, pulling him towards the temple that was only a handful of meters away. 

A panic swept over his battered frame as Anakin pulled back against the hold the man had on him. The Sith turned to face him, his Master’s lips curling into a devilish snarl as he yanked twice as hard, nearly dislocating Anakin’s shoulder. “No time for games child,” he growled, pulling his other fist through his hair. “Though I do wish we had more time to get to know each other,” the Sith added sadistically. 

Anakin dug his heels into the ground, terrified for what it would mean for his Master if they made it into the temple. Obi-wan might be lost forever. If he was, Anakin would be forced to make good on his promise. That, he wasn’t prepared to do. 

Unsatisfied with his resistance, the Sith took Obi-wan’s lightsaber in his fist, slamming the butt of the hilt square against Anakin’s already bleeding temple, knocking him out cold. 

…….

Anakin came to, his head pounding, his body stripped naked, shivering against the cold slab of stone beneath him. He didn’t dare open his eyes, but he could feel the resonance of too much darkness beneath him, all around him, piercing his body and soul, enveloping his essence. 

“How can you be so sure he’s the one?” A feminine voice echoed through the large room. 

“Who else would come for us if not him?” His Master’s voice insisted through the strange cadence of the Sith Lord. 

“What if they discovered our world by mistake? It’s dangerous to even attempt this, if he isn’t the one.” The woman said skeptically. 

“Can’t you feel him? Feel how loud the force resonates within him?” The Sith Lord said, kneeling down to place a cold hand on Anakin’s aching jaw. Everything hurt from the crash, from the violence that had been lashed out against him before it. “He _is_ the vessel. I’m sure of it.” 

“And if not? Then you’ve cursed us for another thousand years.”

“Everything is consistent with the prophecy, is it not?” His Master’s voice said. 

“I suppose.” The woman said, relenting. “He’s just so weak, so young. There’s hardly anything remarkable about him.” 

“All the better for us to use him. The prophecy never spoke of such things, it’s not important.” His Master’s voice said, calculating.

“I swear, If you _are_ wrong, I will kill you myself once we gain our flesh form again.” She added threateningly. 

“You would, dear one.” His Master said with a fierce, icy tone.

“I think he’s awake,” the woman said in a quieter voice. 

A hand shook at Anakin’s shoulder. Against his intentions, his body tensed tellingly. “He is,” the Sith said “Now is the time. Tell the others.” His Master’s voice said as a hand now violently wrenched on his already injured arm causing him to cry out in pain. He could feel the tendons strained and torn from the crash, sharp and agonizing as the Sith tormented him. 

“Get up,” the Sith barked, forcing Anakin to his feet. Feeling too vulnerable while disrobed, he shrunk down reflexively, covering himself with his arms as well as he could. His body felt battered and exposed, making him helplessly empty. Just a child again, just a slave, as powerless as he had ever been. 

Obi-wan’s face twisted cunningly. “What are you trying to hide? Nothing I haven’t already seen, is it?” 

Anakin blushed, his chest turning to stone as he turned inwards. “So coy, don’t tempt me,” the Sith said as he pulled on Anakin’s arm again causing him to grimace in pain. “If you survive, there will be time for the two of us later,” the Sith said, his voice velvet. “I do certainly hope you survive.” He added with a low chuckle as he pulled him down a dark hall. Anakin tried to resist but was too easily pushed and shoved. He was too weak to put up any meaningful resistance. 

At the other side of the hall was a grand room with nine pedestals on the outer perimeter and one altar at the center. Each pedestal held a holocron lit up with crimson from the inside, swirling with light. The altar at the center had glyphs etched deeply into its surface on all its sides. 

As the Sith pulled him to the center altar, Anakin intensified his resistance, dragging the bare bottoms of his feet over the stone, falling to his knees as a result. Aggravated, the Sith threw him against the base of the altar, hard. Battered and feeling weaker than he otherwise might have, Anakin fought gravity to pull himself back up. He was beginning to feel the heavy effects of the multiple head injuries he had suffered, compounded by all the other injuries from the crash. His balance was skewed, his typical vigor nowhere to be found. 

Anakin’s stomach dropped as he looked about the room, feeling the dark energy of the place ebb into his body. Whispering voices filled the air, touched his skin, every inch of him. The Sith Lord came at him, pulling him up by a fist of his hair, bending him over the altar. 

Anakin wrestled against him with every ounce of his waning strength, but was overcome by the man that held him in place, his face pressed hard against the etched glyphs of the stone slab. In a flash, the Sith pulled out the small of a crude blade, pulling it over his neck quickly, drawing a red line that spilled out onto the stone. The cut wasn’t so deep as to nick his artery, but deep enough to produce a significant amount of blood that felt sickly warm as it pooled under his face and arms.

His struggle slowed as he began to feel faint, weak from the loss of blood. As his life essence dripped and poured into the sunken glyphs, the holocrons all around began to glow brightly, screaming like sirens as a rumbling filled the air. The sound of tearing, ripping flesh sounded out, filling the room with its intensity as a chilling gust of wind swept over him. 

The Sith released him, allowing Anakin to collapse to the floor again as a rift opened before the altar. The holocrons rose up in the air, dancing like blood stained stars as they rushed into the void. All nine were consumed, and one by one, nine darkly robed beings stepped out of it. As the last came through, Obi-wan’s body dropped limp, lifelessly on the ground beside him. 

Anakin crawled closer to his Master’s body as his strength faded further, curling up beside him as he held a hand to the slash on his neck to stave the bleeding. He reached for his Master’s aura, feeling the man on the edge of consciousness, fighting back from the hold the Sith held over him.

…….

With a gasp, Obi-wan opened his eyes. Anakin lay before him, naked, bleeding, curled up in his arms. His body began to tremble with rage, his eyes spilling silent tears as he reached out with shaky hands to touch his face. Seeing his battered Padawan teetering on the edge of death, unbeknownst to the beautiful soul that looked back at him with hope, with relief. 

Anakin closed his eyes upon seeing his Master regain consciousness, allowing himself to let go. The boy had sustained several serious injuries, it was a wonder he was able to stay alert at all. Obi-wan felt his own injuries, sensing they were more serious than he could give attention to in the moment. 

He didn’t have time to focus on healing, not that it had done him any good ever since the Sith creature had sunken its fangs into him. Calling on the light hadn’t given him a shred of advantage. Not in this place. 

In this place the only thing that thrived was darkness. Such was the darkness that festered and grew, sinking its sinister tendrils into his soul. Darkness. Like the essence of the nine beings that stood just beyond Anakin’s bleeding, naked body. 

Obi-wan rose to stand, taking his and Anakin’s sabers in hand, igniting them as he bared his teeth to the dark beings that stood hooded and obscured beneath their wrappings. He didn’t so much hear the growl that ripped from his throat as he launched himself at them, as he felt the feral reverberation of it resonate in his chest. The wrathful tears welled and flowed down his face in delicate pearls as he sliced through one of the Sith before they had time to reach for their weapon. 

For all of the things that had happened to Anakin, his beloved Padawan, for all the ways they had poisoned their relationship, perverted it, they would die. All of them. It felt like a justified anger, a rage that boiled over from his heart, his wounded, confused, broken heart. His anger gave him strength, flowing through his body, merging with the Sith sickness that infected his shoulder, that had spread to every part of his body and soul.

As he embraced it, somehow timed slowed around him, as he sliced through two other sith before the remaining six had time to engage their own sabers to oppose him. Obi-wan could feel some of his internal organs failing from injuries he couldn’t make sense of or explain in the moment. It didn’t matter. 

Six red sabers blazed against him, clashing with the two blue blades he wielded. One slash, he managed to cut down three of them with inhuman speed. Only three left. Only now, their body language changed. They were fearful. They were afraid of him. 

Everything about this scenario should have mortified him. Instead he felt powerful. He felt his lips curl up in a sadistic grin as he chased after the remaining three Sith that began to run from him. Stopping, he reached out, pulling them back with violent force as he drew them near to his blades. Slicing the heads clean off two, Obi-wan threw another Saber that danced in the air, rotating cleanly in crisp blue circles as it met with the neck of the last Sith. The saber returned to his hand just as gracefully.

A moment later he collapsed. His body complained, his muscles ached as if he had just spent an immense amount of energy. He looked out at his hands, nearly fully ashen, black lines running through them where his veins ought to have been. He pulled at his tunic, revealing his shoulder beneath. An empty black crater where the teeth had once sunken into him. 

Feeling his life force dwindle, as well as Anakin’s, Obi-wan crawled close to him again. He moved to hold the broken boy in his arms, feeling a calm sink in over him with a harrowing sadness to follow after it. Everything Anakin had been subjected to in his short life, all leading up to this. 

The boy deserved so much better. From the very start, he deserved a Master who could have given him more. A Master that would have known how to handle the difficult things. A Master who would never have been so weak in the face of temptation. Perhaps the biggest regret, was how he had harmed their bond by allowing such lecherous fantasies. Their last moments together had been consumed by the wake of that allowance. And now, he would never have time to make things right. 

Obi-wan held Anakin’s face close, gently cradling him. A string of tortured sobs suddenly ripped from his chest as tears fell onto Anakin’s short cropped hair that had become stained and matted with blood. In this place there was no light. But there was good, because Anakin was good. Though his life force continued to dwindle down steadily. Because that’s what this place did. It took any good thing and destroyed it. 

If Obi-wan could have felt the light flow inside him, he could have helped Anakin. But he had no such powers here. He hadn’t for several days, now. Only nothing had been so detrimental as this. He had brought Anakin here. The boy had been hurt in so many ways ever since. Even if they had survived, how could he ever forgive himself? How could he look at Master Yoda and hold anything but contempt and hatred for putting Anakin here in harm's way? 

Anakin was going to die in his arms, and there was nothing he could do about it. Obi-wan closed his eyes, trying to make his peace with it all. Their only transport had been destroyed. The coms had already been down before the crash, there was no way any equipment was salvageable enough for him to piece together before he died of his own internal injuries. 

Obi-wan remembered holding Qui-gon as the life had left his eyes. When that final breath left him, the essence of the man he had known as Master, ceased to exist. He didn’t want to have to hold Anakin as he died, too. But the thought of Anakin dying alone, with his Master already gone, seemed cruel. Anakin wouldn’t want to be alone, he would want him to wait. Anakin, always hopelessly dependent. 

Even now, he couldn’t resent the boy for it. For everything he had seen, everything he had been through, he was strong. If only he could have served him better. 

Just as Obi-wan had fully accepted their situation as irredeemably mortal, footsteps came closer, softly patting against the stone floor of the temple. His heart was afraid to hope, lest that same hope be dashed just as quickly as it was given. But as the footsteps drew near, a friendly voice sounded out. 

“I’ve found them! Come quick, they’re badly injured!” A small voice cried out. A Padawan’s voice. Two Jedi Masters rushed into the temple, beholding their surroundings with reservation as they hurried over to attend to the two battered Jedi who lay strewn on the floor. 

Obi-wan blinked his eyes open as one of the Jedi removed Anakin from his arms, carrying him away, out of the temple, to a transport that would take them to Coruscant. So they had been saved. They might not die, after all. Obi-wan resisted the urge to reach out for Anakin as they took him away. He honed his emotions to heed his will, to not cry out for him as he so badly wanted to. 

Loss, an empty sense of what was once had, now forever absent. A hole ripped through his chest. It was all he could see, all he could feel. Why was he so inconsolable? It was shameful, the way involuntary tears streamed down his face as he looked up at the temple ceiling with willfully vacant eyes. 

“Master Kenobi?” One of the Jedi called to him, trying to bring him back. Another placed hands on his shoulder, over the crater that had begun to rot through. Healing tones flooded him, wrenching every nerve they met, causing a horrible pain to shoot through his chest. 

He didn’t hear the scream, but he heard the echo of it resound through the temple. “Something is wrong, we’ve got to get him to the temple, fast.” The other Jedi said with a serious tone. “I sense a ruptured spleen, who knows what else. I have no clue what this is in his shoulder.” 

“No time to waste, let’s go then.” The other Jedi said, hoisting him up. Obi-wan let out another cry of pain. 

“It’s alright Master Kenobi, we’ll get you to the healers. Just hang in there.”


	9. Report

Anakin waited by his Master’s side patiently, as the healers milled about up and down the halls of healing, leaving the two of them largely unattended. It had been three weeks since the two of them had been rescued from Kraysiss Two. One of those weeks Anakin had been laid up himself, recovering from the numerous injuries he had received on the world. 

The very next day after he had been discharged, he had been called to present his report before the Jedi Council. The thought of it had terrified him. He had never given a report to the council all on his own before. He had spoken to them alone, but this was different. How could he effectively keep secrets from the ones who could so decisively cut through his thoughts? They would examine them against the cold, unfeeling code they abided. He was nothing but a specimen for them to sift through, to find the valuable bits of information they needed. Or at least that was how Anakin felt, standing there alone before them, his Master still in dire straits, on the edge of death in the healing halls. They could all sense his unease, no matter how he tried to muster through it.

“Padawan Skywalker, what is your report of the mission to Kraysiss Two?” Mace asked with a soft edge to his voice, commanding yet not harsh. 

“Well, Masters, as you may have already come to conclusion, the mission did not go favorably. We were… unable to effectively carry it out at all.” Anakin answered back carefully, employing the manner in which he had seen his Master report to the council so many times before. It helped him hide the edge of fear that crept over his demeanor. 

“Please speak in specifics. I know this has been a difficult mission for you, but the necessity for details has never been higher. You landed, and all was well. What happened after that?” Master Plo spoke kindly his words tinged with subtle concern that he tried to downplay to the best of his ability. 

Sweat began to bead at Anakin’s brow, no longer able to hide his restlessness at all. He remembered the hurt he had felt towards his Master for thinking of him as such a child. But the fear of their surroundings had bonded them closer. How he had found solace in his Master’s embrace that night he was tormented with old, horrid memories. 

Anakin looked down at the floor, it was easier than making eye contact with the council. He always felt judged by them, and it was even harder for him to not judge himself. His own personal criticisms reflected back at him in their eyes tenfold. Weak, pathetic, useless slave. 

“It was all just fine until the first night. There were nightmares, visions. Master Kenobi sensed there were Sith artifacts buried on the planet to deter Jedi from getting too close. But we stayed on mission. We thought if it was just a war in the mind, that we could push through it.” Anakin said, wishing he could go back in time and shake his Master by the shoulders, scream at him, how stupid it was to keep going when they should have just gone back.

Anakin paused. The council was silent, patiently waiting for him to continue. “But then there was this… this thing… It was all decayed and hollowed out, like a corpse. But it moved so fast. Obi-wan couldn’t see it. I saw it. I tried to protect him,” Anakin said, his voice breaking. 

He had tried to protect him, just like he had tried to protect his Mother. He failed just as terribly, both times. He stopped, agonized by recounting the tale. Guilt like a ton of brick weighed on his chest for all the things he had done wrong. 

“I couldn’t save him, it moved too fast. I killed it, I think, as much as you could kill something that was already dead.” 

“The beast you speak of, it bit Master Kenobi’s shoulder.” Mace announced in affirmation of what they had already known. 

“Yes.” Anakin said, forcing his eyes to glance up towards Master Windu, a sorry failure written in his remorseful eyes. 

“Did you notice any changes to him after that? Anything significant?” Ki-adi said. Anakin could sense that was the issue of most importance. Anakin’s stomach filled with lead as he thought through the question. 

“Yes,” Anakin said, his eyes lidded as his skin crawled. “He fell ill shortly after. There was a terrible fever. He stopped dead in his tracks and collapsed. I had to set up camp. He didn’t so much as move a muscle for half a day."

Anakin paused, wary to continue. The council waited ever patiently. “After that, he woke up and started to feel better, but his shoulder hurt him, really bad.” 

“Was there anything else?” Mace followed up expectantly, waiting for the rest. The man knew there was more. Anakin could see it in his damning amber eyes that looked out at him through slits in the man’s perfectly dark skin. 

Anakin nodded his head and swallowed hard. “Yes.” A pause. All he could hear was the sound of his own desperate heart beat drumming loudly in his ears. The council waited. “I don’t know how to explain it,” Anakin said, wishing he didn’t have to tell them at all. 

“Do your best.” Mace said, losing patience. 

“He would get stuck, just stop everything. In the next second he would be… someone else.” Anakin said, shivering. 

“What do you mean, someone else?” Mace pressed him. “Did he hurt you?”

Anakin felt the blood rush from his face. “No, I mean, not really,” he stammered. He couldn’t tell them the whole truth, they would never let him see his Master ever again. His throat restricted in panic as his hands trembled. 

“I was trying to change his bandage and he cut me. When we were trying to fly off world he crashed the transport on purpose. But it wasn’t Obi-wan, it was someone else.” Anakin insisted, trying to make his fear look warranted, since he knew he was doing a poor job of hiding it. 

“Who do you think this ‘someone else’ was?” Mace said, his eyes boring straight through him.

“A Sith.” Anakin said, feeling a shiver run down his spine.

“That’s a bold declaration. How can you be so sure?” Ki-adi said skeptically. 

“He said that’s what he was. He wanted us to set him and the others free.” Anakin said in an empty voice.

Mace’s eyes narrowed towards Ki-adi, something passing unspoken between the two of them. 

“And you did, didn’t you?” Mace asked, his voice returning to a slightly softer tone. 

“Yes. They said I was the one. The _vessel._ ” Anakin said, his stomach churning. He had never understood what that had truly ment. 

“And what happened after that?” Mace asked, his voice sounding as if he knew the answer.

Only, Anakin had no recollection of what happened after that. “I… I don’t know. After it was over, I was so tired. After the Sith were freed, Obi-wan collapsed. But then he came back, the real him. I was so relieved, I just closed my eyes. I must have passed out because that’s all I remember.” 

Mace looked at him with what seemed like either skepticism or doubt. Perhaps both. “Interesting.” He remarked. 

“You might be interested to know when the Jedi came to rescue you and your Master, all the Sith were already dead.” Master Plo spoke up.

“Slaughtered.” Mace said in clarification. 

Their words hung heavy in the air with implication, none giving any further clarification. Anakin looked down at the floor again, waiting for his dismissal. But still, the council sat in silence. 

“Your transponder went silent just after you made landfall on Kraysiss Two. Perhaps a random hardware malfunction. Impossible to know now, since the ship is far beyond repair. Right after, we sent the rescue team out after you and your Master. Were it not for that, you would not have been rescued for several more days. You both would have died long before then.” Mace added grimly.

“The force was with you, it would seem. Even if it did not feel true in the moment. The threat of the ancient Sith holocrons is now past, however, not at all how we had intended.” Plo remarked, turning his head to look Mace straight on in what felt a contrary remark towards the Jedi Master. 

“Yes, the threat is no longer. However, at what cost?” Mace shot back. 

“Is Master Kenobi going to be alright?” Anakin asked, suddenly aware that all might not be well with the man. Was Obi-wan the cost they spoke of?

“His condition is unique, but he is stable for the time being. The healers are unsure of what to make of his condition.” Mace stated factually. 

“We have confidence that they will bring him back to full health.” Ki-adi followed up in a reassuring voice. “However, until he is fully well, you will be under my care, as my own Padawan.” 

The declaration felt like a knife to his heart. Could he be so easily traded and passed to another Master? It felt like it meant he was leaving Obi-wan behind. They couldn’t take him away from him, could they? 

Ki-adi sensed his distress. “The intention is only to keep up your training, until Master Kenobi is able to resume his duties. It is not a permanent arrangement, but one of immediate necessity.” 

“Yes Master, I understand.” Anakin said submissively, bowing his head. Another pause, as if they had something more to say, as if they were silently debating whether or not to divulge more information between silent looks, nods and expressions. 

“Will that be all?” Anakin asked hopefully. 

“Yes, thank you for your report, Padawan Skywalker. That will be all.” Mace said, his hands splayed and pressed against one another, held thoughtfully before him. 

Anakin walked as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself as he made his exit. Inside he was begging his Master to wake up, to get well. For his Master’s sake, but mostly for his own. It was a selfish way to be, but he couldn’t help it. 

The weeks following his new assignment to Master Mundi had been droll and painful. He and Obi-wan had developed a routine between the two of them, a comfortable demeanor among one another. Ki-adi prodded too far one day, saying his difficulties about working under the guidance of another stemmed from his over familiarity with Obi-wan. 

“Perhaps all has worked to your favor in that regard. Take this time to learn proper boundaries. It will serve you better in the long run, however uncomfortable it may be.” He had said, cold and calculating. 

Master Mundi had never been as harsh as Master Windu, never as calculating as Master Yoda. But he wasn’t Obi-wan, so Anakin wasn’t interested in trying to forge a new Padawan Master relationship with the man. He did his studies, his saber drills, even his meditations, and outside of those hours he would return to his true Master’s bedside in the healing halls. None of the council even had the heart to try to keep him away, though all of them knew what a detriment of attachment it displayed. Anakin didn’t care.

Because eventually Obi-wan would wake up, he would be as good as new. They could continue on seamlessly as if nothing bad had ever happened. Not that Anakin expected things to carry on in the exact same way. There were changes to their relationship that even he couldn’t deny, had made everlasting changes to the way things were between them.

Every night Anakin thought about it, he couldn’t pry his mind away from those fleeting moments. How Obi-wan had wanted him, needed him, it made his breath quicken, his heart pound in his chest. And then the red hot blade that would pierce his soul-- Obi-wan didn’t even know any of it was real. 

Anakin had pondered over that, for hours upon hours, days since he had awoken in the healing halls. It made his chest fill with fear, with hope and paralyzing dread. What would he say when he found out? Would he think lesser of him? Be angry with him? What else was Anakin supposed to do but allow him to take what he wanted, how he wanted? 

It was the only thing he could do. How the nightmare and dream were twisted, tangled up into one unbelievable reality. He couldn’t help but feel he had done something wrong, that somehow this was all his fault. There was the haunting fear, that when Obi-wan found out what had truly happened, he would hate him. 

Anakin thought of the two possibilities. He might tell him, or he might keep it forever a secret. Neither were preferential scenarios. If he told him, what good would come out of it? What would change? If he kept it to himself, let it die with time, he might fester into a rotten soup inside, curtling him from within. 

Somehow he never pictured a happy ending. And he wasn’t sure that’s what he wanted, or if he even felt romantically towards him at all. Though how his Master had made him feel was unmistakable. The passion, desire, the sensation of someone inside of him, were all powerful, incredible, new. But for it all, what he thought he wanted most, was for things to return back to how they had been. But that was an impossible outcome.

Now Anakin pondered over it lazily as he sat by Obi-wan’s bedside, exhausted. Training had been going well, as well as it could under Master Mundi. It seemed like Ki-adi had been piling on extra work for him, to keep him out of the healing halls, mourning over his Master’s healing body. Mourning mostly, the way things had been. Anakin missed Obi-wan terribly, and the fact that he didn’t know what sort of relationship lie ahead of them once Kenobi became well again, made waiting for him to return, that much worse. The surmounting number of unknown factors were gnawing at his mind. 

A healer entered the small med room, interrupting Anakin’s troubled thoughts. The Zabrak woman strode in right past him, waving a small diagnostic tool over his Master’s body. She checked the small readout screen with neither a pleased or displeased expression on her pleasantly vacant face. She ignored Anakin. At this point he had become so frequently a fixture in the room, he was no more out of place than the lamp at Obi-wan’s bedside, or the lights in the ceiling. 

“Is he getting any better?” Anakin asked. The healer did not turn away from her business, checking charts and reading Obi-wan’s vitals. 

“He is stable, the nanites are continuing to work as they should, but it’s much slower than our usual other methods. Tearing down and reconstructing each cell one by one takes time.” The healer said simply before she holstered the scanner at her side and left the room as promptly as she had entered. 

Anakin had been there each night when they came in to check the readout and do vitals. Every night he asked, and every night he received the same answer. But how could he not ask?

Nanites were seldomly used by the Jedi healers since force healing enhanced with kyber crystals was such a quicker method. But the virus that had eaten through Obi-wan’s body, spreading necrotic lattices of tissue throughout his entire system, reacted adversely to force healing. Any use of the force only sped up the process of consumption. Were Obi-wan left on his own, he would have transformed into the same beast that had bitten him to start. Were he left without treatment for even a few more hours, the healers said it would have done too much irreversible damage to his neural cortex. The Sith virus would have corroded the man he was, burning him from the very fabric of his mind. 

Anakin looked over at his Master. The man’s color looked significantly better than it had the previous week, though the small black lines still ghosted faintly under the surface of his pale skin. Sometimes his face would look troubled, other times he looked quite peaceful. Mostly Anakin saw his own fear and dread reflected back in the man’s kind features. 

Anakin pulled his chair next to Obi-wan’s bedside and dared to rest his head against the man’s arm. Even while his Master’s aura was stained by the Sith virus that ever ebbed out of his system, the gentle hum that surrounded the man was comforting as it had always been. 

It made his eyes heavy with fatigue. He hadn’t been able to sleep well since they came back to Coruscant. Even on that sith planet, he had slept better that night in his Master’s arms after that terrible vision.

Anakin’s stomach felt nervous to think about it. The thought of what had happened to his Mother, he hadn’t really understood it as a child. Now, he felt he knew more than he had ever wanted to know. He wondered, did they hurt her like that Sith had hurt him? It made his blood boil with anger, his chest swell with confusion. Why did the Sith use his Master like that? To hurt him in ways that left him with gaping open sores in his chest, his heart, bleeding and festering with things he could never reconcile.

Anakin nestled his head on his Master’s shoulder carefully, not to anger whatever healing wounds might linger beneath his med tunic. He wanted Obi-wan to wake up, to tell him none of it mattered and that everything was going to be okay. He wanted things that he could never have, that he _would_ never have.

He closed his eyes and tried to mute everything that played on loop agonizingly in the back of his mind. All that existed was the gentleness of his Master’s aura hanging around his own tormented soul. It pulled him into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

…….

Anakin stirred when a hand jostled his shoulder. It took him a moment to remember where he was. He had never ventured back to his quarters the night before. He fell asleep on Obi-wan’s shoulder, and stayed there for hours. Now as he blinked his eyes open, he could see daylight streaming through the windows at the top edges of the room. The hand jostling his shoulder awake, was that of his adoptive Master, Ki-adi Mundi. 

“Anakin, you’ve been here all night, and morning,” he said, sharply chastising. “What do you have to say for yourself?” He added expectantly, as a parent would speak to a young child. 

Anakin glared back up at him resentfully through squinted eyes, still adjusting to the daylight. “What time is it?” He willed himself to ask, not interested in justifying his reason for being there. In all honestly it was the best rest he had gotten in weeks. He couldn’t sleep alone, in the empty apartment without Obi-wan. 

“It’s ten hundred standard hours.” Ki-adi said dryly. “You’ve missed morning meditation, and you’re late to practice.”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, omitting the title of _Master_. It didn’t belong to him. 

“You will change your clothes and freshen up, then report to practice at _once._ ” Mundi said, still unsatisfied by Anakin’s apology. It was just as well that he wasn’t. Anakin didn’t much care. 

“Master Mundi, is my Padawan causing trouble?” Obi-wan croaked, as he fell into a brief coughing fit. 

Anakin’s torso twitched around to see his Master opening his eyes, puffy with dark bags under them. But he was awake, alert, _alive_ all the same. Anakin did not smile. His eyes went wide with surprise and a fraction of fear. So much had happened since the last time the two of them were together, within the safety of the temple walls. It left his mind reeling, flooded with thoughts and no words to say. 

“Master Kenobi, you’re awake,” Ki-adi said in a change of tone. Surprise, though not entirely unpleasant. 

“Indeed I am.” Obi-wan answered, clearing his throat again. Anakin reached over for the tumbler of water on the side table and brought it near to his Master. His _true_ Master. 

Without a word Obi-wan pulled up his head enough to take a sip from the straw, wetting his throat and bringing his voice near to his usual fullness. “If you don’t mind, I would like the day to catch up with Anakin.” 

“By all means, my charge of him was temporary, until you were well enough.” Ki-adi explained, seeming glad to be rid of him. “Now that you’re awake, I see no reason not to, for all intensive purposes, return him to your care. Of course he can train with others until you’re physically capable.” 

“I appreciate that, Master.” Obi-wan said humbly. “I’m sure Anakin does, as well.” He added knowingly, sensing well the conflict that had been rife between the two of them. 

“I’m sure.” Mundi said with a curt glance that Anakin returned in kind. “Well at any rate, I’ll inform the rest of the council of your recovery. As you regain your strength we will await your report on the mission. But of course, your health is priority.” 

Obi-wan’s aura shifted uncomfortably, though ever subtly. No doubt it would have gone without notice in Mundi’s eyes. Anakin felt it as if it were his own. Not that his emotions weren’t beginning to storm around him, they most certainly were, and without the discretion his Master had tried to assert over his own emotions. 

“Of course, Master. I’ll make my report as soon as I’m able.” Obi-wan said sincerely. 

Anakin’s heart fluttered nervously. “We look forward to it.” Mundi said, making for the door, not giving Anakin any other notice or remarks. It wasn’t his job, any more. “Rest up, Master Kenobi.” Mundi said as a final parting gesture as he left the small room. 

There was a small silence that filled the room in Ki-adi’s absence. Anakin sat directly facing his Master, his eyes cast low. A healer entered the room. 

“Master Kenobi, you’re awake!” The same Zabrak that had checked on him the night before, remarked. She bustled around him, forcing Anakin to slide his chair back into the corner and watch as Obi-wan was subjected to a small number of tests. All of them were relatively quick, but the moment seemed to drag on forever. 

Anakin would look over at his Master, lock eyes, then shamefully avert his own gaze. His stare was too intense, it only made him think of those few moments they had shared, that soured everything. 

“No heavy exertion for the next week or so. Because of the unique strain of virus you are dealing with, we had to use nanites to reverse the damage. It uses force energy as an accelerant. Use it, and you risk getting just as bad as you were when you came in, maybe even worse. It was a near fatal case.” The woman said sternly, yet not scolding. 

“But so long as you take it easy, you should be able to resume your usual activities in about another week, it things continue to clear at the same rate.” The zabrak woman said happily. “Just come in once a day so we can keep tabs on everything. But i’m sure you don’t want to stick around here anymore than necessary.”

“Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” Obi-wan laughed, trying to make light of things. Anakin could feel his distress. 

“I’m sure,” the healer said with sly eyes. “Regardless, you’re free to leave. Remember to check in, like I said.” The zabrak woman said as she turned to leave. 

Anakin wasn’t sure whether to say or go to, but leaving his Master at such a time seemed harsh. Besides it had been weeks since they had spoken, even longer since they had a chance to decompress. It didn’t feel right to leave unless he was dismissed, and he wasn’t about to ask. 

As much as Anakin was afraid to meet his Master’s gaze, Obi-wan seemed to be equally avoidant. The question lingered in the back of his mind, for the moment, remaining unspoken. It was wrong to burden his Master with more than he could deal with at the moment, he wasn’t even fully well yet. 

“I’m going to change then go back to our quarters. Will you join me?” Obi-wan said hesitantly, feeling out for Anakin’s state of mind. 

“Sure,” Anakin said, stirring up as much positivity as he could manage to exert. 

Obi-wan sensed the brightness in his voice, bringing a small smile to his lips. Though his Master didn’t look him straight on, or say anything else.

“I’ll wait for you outside, so you can get changed.” Anakin said, politely dismissing himself. 

A few moments later Obi-wan emerged from the small med room, dressed in a fresh set of his Jedi robes. Without seeming too evasive, Anakin noticed how the man avoided direct eye contact, as if he had something to hide. 

_He knows. He must know_ , Anakin thought. At the very least, what he had done to him, whether Obi-wan perceived it to have happened in the realm of reality or in his mind, plagued his conscience. Of course it would. But what was it that kept him from looking at him, fully? It was shame of some sort. The full roots of which, Anakin couldn’t decipher. 

Their bond existed, though it was willfully silent. Anakin could only feel vague traces come across, nothing solid to go on. The trek to their quarters was made in silent. As soon as they arrived, Obi-wan retreated to his personal fresher to take a much needed shower, after which he changed into a new set of clothes. Fully resolved to not leave for the rest of the day, his Master changed into his sleep clothes and a plush robe. 

Anakin had prepared some tea for his Master while he showered and dressed. Obi-wan hadn’t asked, but he knew the man well enough to know the gesture would be appreciated. And it was. 

“Thank you,” Obi-wan said genuinely as he settled down at the small table in the center of their living space. Another small smile graced his lips, though he didn’t dare meet his eyes. 

“Your welcome,” Anakin said in turn, settling down across from Obi-wan with his own cup of the brew. 

“So you gave Master Mundi quite the hard time it would seem,” Obi-wan said in a light chastising manner. 

“I guess you could say that,” Anakin said obliquely. He didn’t want to admit how much of his own attachment had led to his behavior with the man. Even if he were to say it aloud, he didn’t sense his Master was about to delve into the subject at length with one of his hallmark lectures. Something about his usual demeanor was muted. Anakin didn’t have to guess at why. 

The burning need to ask Obi-wan, to tell him the truth, ripped in his chest, tearing at his sense of calm he had fostered with delicate care. He knew his Master wouldn’t be able to take the truth. Besides, Anakin wasn’t sure how he felt about Obi-wan, anyways. He didn’t know how he would find out, but he was entirely too conflicted to bring it up. 

Thinking of it made him uncomfortable in his own skin. But there were other questions, ones that needed to be asked. “So, are you going to give your report to the council tomorrow?” Anakin asked in a rueful tone he wish he could have omitted. 

A wave of muted fear flooded Obi-wan, only just barely felt through their bond. Anakin pretended not to notice. “I had intended on it.” His Master answered solemnly. 

A charged silence grew between them. Anakin tried to still the ever growing anxiety that took over his heart, choking any words from rising to the surface. 

“I assume you’ve given your own independent report, as well?” Obi-wan followed up, not specifically coaxing information from him, but silently expecting a few details. 

“Yes,” Anakin said in short. Unspoken questions burned between the two of them, hanging thick in the air.

“And you’ve omitted details from your report, I assume.” Obi-wan probed, for once his clear blue eyes nervously flitting over to meet Anakin’s gaze. 

Anakin stared back, a shade of pain taking form in his own eyes. “Yes,” Anakin said, his single word a plea. Obi-wan lowered his gaze. 

“Master,” Anakin said, his neediness bleeding into his voice as he begged. “You promised,” he declared, unspilt tears welling under his creased brow. He didn’t need to say more for Obi-wan to understand his meaning. 

“I did promise.” Obi-wan stated, neither hinting to if he regretted it or not. 

“ _Please,_ ” Anakin said, not fully convinced his Master would hold to his word. “Please don’t tell them.” 

Obi-wan paused thoughtfully. Every moment was unbearable suspense that Anakin couldn’t stand. It felt like the air had pulled out of the room, only silent vacuum in its place. Anakin clutched his cup tightly in his hands as his heart raced. He could see thoughts pass behind his Master’s eyes as the man weighed the outcomes and possibilities. Anakin saw his future bleeding before his very eyes. What would he become without Obi-wan?

“I will do what’s best for you,” Obi-wan said in a voice on the edge of tears. “Right now, I don’t know what that is.” 

Anakin slammed his cup down, the hot liquid sloshing out onto his hand. He didn’t much care. His heart hardened and fractured. “So your word means nothing then?” Anakin shouted. “You can just make promises without a thought to keeping them?” 

Obi-wan’s face wore a heavy pain. “I’m just trying to be honest. I need to meditate on it, to see more clearly.” 

Anakin sneered as he rose from his chair. “Being honest would mean keeping your promise!” He snarled. 

Obi-wan looked up, a rising anger in his jewel blue eyes. “If you could have handled honestly then, I would have given it.” He shot, tearing through Anakin’s delicate heart. 

Honesty. Such a fragile thing. His Master didn’t think he was strong enough to hear the truth. It was fair enough. Anakin didn’t think his Master able to hear the truth he had to speak, either. Even though he wanted so badly to hurt him like he was hurting, Anakin withheld the truth from him still. Now, it would only push him further away. 

Instead, Anakin glared back at him through teary eyes as he turned to retreat to his personal quarters. Once alone, he collapsed, letting to of the tears, allowing himself to feel the heartache that ripped through him. 

Obi-wan would be willing to give him away, for what? Anakin had done nothing but follow his Master dutifully, listen to him, bend to his will, even when it ment using his own body. What had it earned him? For all of his faithfulness, he would be punished. His heart ached, reeling in confusion. 

What did Obi-wan want? Perhaps his Master didn’t even know. In all fairness, Anakin didn’t know what he wanted, either. But he didn’t want to be ripped from his Master’s side, that much he was certain. In the end, what he wanted wouldn’t mean a thing.


	10. Subdue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy friday everyone ^_^

Obi-wan opened his eyes. Anakin was there, of course he would be. And just as Anakin had looked to him with raw hope in his eyes before he had let go back on that Sith world, now Obi-wan felt a stir of something similar in his chest. He looked at the boy with admiration, with a biting sense of fragility. The sight of him broken and bloody on the stone floor was all too real to him still. The stark mortality that he had become entirely too aware of for his comfort, haunted him. Not for the sake of his own life, but for that of Anakin’s. He was delicate, precious.

If only Obi-wan could look at him with lighter heart, with a mind that was capable of focusing on him as he ought to have. That was the Master that he truly deserved. The one that Obi-wan wasn’t sure he was capable of being. It was hard not to feel the overwhelming shame that seemed to weave its roots into his body, forever reminding him of his weaknesses. He was still haunted by the Sith inspired thoughts of his Padawan-- the good, and pure soul of the boy who sat beside him. It was a tormenting duality that he didn’t think he could stand. How was he to guide and teach him? 

It was a question he would silently ponder as he ventured back to the shared apartment, Anakin ever faithfully at his side. By the time Obi-wan had showered and dressed, he could smell the tea Anakin had been preparing for them. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, his heart swelling with the evidence of how his Padawan so obviously cared for him, as if there had ever been a doubt. Though the smile faded with an afterthought, that perhaps the boy would be better off if he were less attached. It would certainly look better before the council. But for now, he chose to see the gesture as endearing. 

Though just as ever, the peace between them dissolved as quickly as it ever had. Obi-wan sat in a daze as Anakin stormed from the room. He was angry. Angry with himself, with the circumstances he had led them both into. As much as he had lashed out at Anakin, he couldn’t truly be mad at the boy. And he wasn’t. 

Every bit of sharpness would have been more accurately directed back at himself. It was hardly Anakin’s fault how things had turned out. He had done nothing wrong at all. Or perhaps he had. He was detrimentally devoted to his Master. And whose fault was that, truly? 

Obi-wan hadn’t meant to lie, and maybe he didn’t. Really, he was undecided how to handle the whole ordeal. He only wanted what was best for Anakin, whatever that would mean. 

_“Please promise you won’t tell them. Please.”_

_“I promise.”_

What was he supposed to say? What else could he have said? His Padawan had been on the edge of another bout of incapacitating sobbs. Time was of the essence, in limited capacity. Now they seemed to have all the time in the world, and somehow it only made everything worse. 

_I promise._

Did it mean anything at all? That wasn’t the only promise Obi-wan had made, that he was dangerously near to failing as well. 

_Obi-wan… promise-- Promise me you will train the boy._

_Yes, Master._

Qui-gon had no way of knowing the trouble that they would face. If the man had known the sickness that had rooted itself within him, worming its way into his mind, what might he have said? Obi-wan had no doubt that his late master would have been disgusted. Would he want Obi-wan, who was so clearly compromised as an effective Master, to train Anakin? The Chosen One? 

Obi-wan knew in his heart that it was a weak, pathetic, horrible excuse. He owed it to both Anakin and his late Master to try. The only problem was it all seemed impossible. What had happened between them, ruined everything. _He_ ruined everything. 

Everytime he looked at Anakin, no matter how hard he tried, he could see nothing else other than that wretched vision. Even worse was the all too real memory of Anakin’s hot flesh in his grip as he had nearly violated him. He hated how the sensation echoed in his senses every time he thought of it. 

No, he wasn’t a competent Master. He didn’t even come close. Up until this point, he had coddled Anakin too much. It led him to be overly attached, entirely too emotional. As if those hadn’t been innate weaknesses in his Padawan to start. Obi-wan had encouraged them, supported them to grow and fester into greater monsters, much more difficult to be slain. He shuddered to think, how he even enjoyed how it felt, to have someone so dependant on him. Attachment was one of his own weaknesses as well, and he hadn’t been as watchful for its ill effects as he ought to have been. 

But how could Obi-wan not show the boy a kinder, softer side? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been strict with him at all, he had. So much so that Anakin nearly despised him most of the time. Anakin had been through so much, he seemed to require a more delicate touch to get through to. And now he had been through even more trauma. No doubt it would make it even more challenging to connect with him, working past the durasteel barriers he would erect around himself to keep others out. 

Obi-wan felt a latent anger for the things his Padawan had suffered both of old and new. Though what he might have done differently in the past did little to change the fact that whether he had trained Anakin any better, he would have still been hurt on Kraysiss Two. Obi-wan was sure there was little he could have done to avoid the things that even Master Yoda had been blind to. It seemed like the inevitable cold hand of fate, placing this terrible thing in the young boy’s path like an immovable boulder. 

Or perhaps not. Maybe Obi-wan had it all wrong. There was no way to know for sure. The only thing he did know was that speculation was of no use, and was an astronomical waste of time and energy. Qui-gon had been sure to drill that much into his mind. He had no other choice than to live in the present, to exist in the moment. And where was that? 

In the empty living space, a cup of still steaming hot tea between his hands that he held there, feeling its warmth radiate into his palms. Anakin’s spilled up sat opposite him with a cooling puddle of liquid on the table beside it.

Anakin, who had retreated to his quarters in anger. No, in _grief_. Obi-wan could feel it now, loudly. Though he could sense Anakin was trying his best to rein it in, to keep it as quiet as he could while he suffered. It sent turbulent swells of fear and pain through their bond. 

Suddenly, Obi-wan felt hopelessly selfish. It was always his shortcoming, never being able to sense the true need of others till it was often times, already too late. Anakin was afraid of what might become of him if his Master was no longer there to guide him. He was only 18, not yet old enough to become a Jedi Knight. It was a valid fear, compounded by the traumas he had suffered on Kraysiss Two. Some of those things, Obi-wan was still completely ignorant to, he was sure. 

The image came to mind again, Anakin’s hand clutched to his own throat, blood spilling through his fingers. His body had been battered and broken, but his eyes were ever thankful, grateful, that Obi-wan had awoken. He knew his Master would take care of him, and Obi-wan had done just that. 

He had no way to know a rescue awaited them, so his rampage had been born almost entirely out of anger and vengeance rather than duty. Obi-wan felt aghast as he remembered how he slaughtered them. They were Sith so they deserved to die, of course. After all, they were his sworn enemies by oath. But that didn’t change how the darkness had touched him, transformed him, for those moments. He had been too willing to take up the dark in anger. Obi-wan would never be able to tell the council how he had been consumed by the black wicked rage as his Padawan lie near death in his arms. 

Obi-wan still shuddered to remember how Anakin had nearly been the senseless casualty to such demented designs. Obi-wan had killed them all for him. He would do it all over again. How could he not? He loved him.

And that was always the driving motive behind all that he did, and all that he would do. He wanted nothing more than for Anakin to be happy, for him to be successful. Perhaps, it was all he ever wanted, ever since he had come into his life. And now he had to decide that if meeting those ends, ment for Anakin to be under his care, or that of another.

The idea that the best thing for Anakin might have been to stay away from him, was a knife that ripped straight through Obi-wan’s chest. He didn’t want it to be true, he wanted so badly for there to be another way. Could he push past the sick things that gnawed at his mind? Would the desires cease with time? Could he afford to wait and find out? 

Being without his Padawan was impossible to him, just as impossible as it was to go on as if all was alright between them. But those emotions were rooted in fear. Obi-wan thought he might have lost Anakin forever inside the damning walls of that Sith temple, his own soul cast into the living force eternal, as well. The biting regret twisted and wrenched around his heart. He could feel the echo of them distracting his focus, skewing his emotions. It was a selfish yet unavoidable reflex. He had nearly lost him then, he didn’t want to risk it again. Not even if it were in Anakin’s best interest. 

But what was really the best for him? A taunting realization entered his mind. Obi-wan was so ready to sensor his own report to the council for his own personal comfort, yet he was so hesitant to allow Anakin that same thing. It would be embarrassing for Anakin to have such knowledge spread about him to the others. Of course he wouldn’t want them to know how he had been nearly violated. It did make Obi-wan’s heart ache to think about. How would he feel presenting himself to the council, then? 

Anakin already had such a difficult time as it was. But was catering to him this way just contributing to the problem? Was it helping him at all? Obi-wan stopped and took a breath. 

Whether he excluded the information from his report or not, that still didn’t deal with the root of the problem, and it was wrong to try to pawn the entire situation off on his Padawan. It had nothing to do with Anakin, really, and everything to do with himself. He might keep the harsher truths about their mission a secret, but was he good for Anakin? That was the important question to answer. 

It was his own fault he couldn’t control his thoughts or feelings. And now for his thoughtlessness, Anakin was paying the price. If he couldn’t rein in his rogue emotions and desires, it would be Anakin yet again at the brunt of his failure. The boy might have been given to emotional extremes, but it was his own fault he hadn’t tried harder to correct him sooner. Anakin was the Padawan, and he the Master. But could he overcome his inner demons to help him now? Either choice seemed the wrong one. 

Obi-wan set his cooling cup of tea down on the table, propping up his elbows on the hard surface, burying his head in his hands. He didn’t have to decide this very moment, there were too many variables to sift through while he was so emotionally charged. He would need to clear his mind before he could decide anything else. 

…….

After much meditation and a shallow restless sleep, Obi-wan rose up early to meet with the council. It was better to get it out of the way, he thought. The night before he stayed awake, wrestling with himself, his doubts and fears. At the end of it, he hadn’t been able to feel fully resolved in his path, but he had set himself on one all the same. 

He hadn’t spoken with Anakin since the events of the previous afternoon. He didn’t know how to approach him, or what to say. He didn’t know how to interact with him since all of those terrible things that had happened, that had seemed to put an insurmountable distance between them. Obi-wan felt his typical aloofness, detrimentally compounded by so many horrible things. 

But Obi-wan decided he would have to work past it. They could, just like they had done with all else. Mostly the work lie within Obi-wan, himself. He needed to work past his own sinful thoughts. Truly it was a war in the mind. And, he decided, there was a chance that things would get easier as the virus finally vacated his system. Perhaps it would take the lecherous desires with it. After the night of silent meditation and attempted encouragement, he felt a fraction less hopeless than he had at the start. So there he stood, at the center of the council chambers before his Jedi elders, feeling only slightly out of place. 

“Your report mirrors much of what your Padawan had already told us. Though, we do have some other questions.” Mace said, after Obi-wan had finished divulging all he had decided to tell. 

“Yes, Master, of course. What is it that you wish to know?” Obi-wan answered back dutifully. 

“Well, two things, actually. The first of which has to do with the Sith that were found slaughtered on the floor of the temple when your rescue arrived. What can you tell us of it?” Mace said, his eyes looking back at him as a trusted friend, though something else lingered there beneath. 

“To be honest, Master Windu, my memories are a bit hazy after waking up. I sensed some significant injuries, head trauma among them.” Obi-wan said, drawing out what he hadn’t wanted to tell. “But I do remember coming to, seeing Anakin there on the floor,” He said, finding it difficult to keep all of the emotion from his voice as he spoke of the scene.

“I got up to my feet, and saw them there. As a Jedi it was my duty to eliminate them. So I did what any one of us would have done. Though like I said, the events, were all rather hazy.” Obi-wan said, trying as best as he could to be thoroughly convincing. 

“The council has expressed concern that you might have resorted to reaching into the dark, for the power needed to kill all _nine_ Sith you were set against.” Mace spoke back, his words not meant to be as cutting as they were. 

Obi-wan took a breath, furrowing his brow. He knew very well, that what Mace described, was exactly what had transpired. Only worse, he had willingly reached deep into his hatred, more than he was ever going to admit. 

“It is possible, I wish I remembered more to be of better help.” Obi-wan said, neither admitting fault nor agreeing with what the man had said. It was an evasive tactic he had learned well from his own Master, who had employed it on a great number of occasions. Though he doubted Qui-gon would have approved of how he had chosen to employ it.

“The second question,” Mace spoke again, this time his eyes narrowing. Whatever it was, it was going to be of more importance than the last question, which made Obi-wan nervous to think about. 

“Padawan Skywalker has seemed to take this mission with particular difficulty. Many on the council have expressed their concern with the boy’s emotional state. His ability to adapt under Master Mundi’s care was poor, and he seems to be more withdrawn than usual.” Mace stated, his tongue sharp. 

Though in his words, was not a single question. Obi-wan waited for him to continue, assuming there was indeed a question. And there was. 

“What do you think of Padawan Skywalker’s progress?” Mace asked, a trick question, Obi-wan knew. 

The right answer would be to criticize Anakin in every light the council did, to mirror their concerns. But Obi-wan didn’t feel right cutting his Padawan to pieces before them, as they would have him do. 

“Anakin continues to make acceptable progress in all areas. It is more than understandable that he would be having difficulty under Master Mundi after such a traumatic experience on Kraysiss Two.” Obi-wan stated defensively. 

_After all, it was against my own better judgement that he go along with me at all. If anyone, you can blame Master Yoda for Anakin’s poor emotional state._ Obi-wan thought, the words burning a hole in his chest that he took a moment to stifle. It was notable that throughout the proceedings, Yoda continued to stay silent. 

“It’s easy to continue to make allowances for Padawan Skywalker, but it is not to his best interest.” Mace ground out. 

“He was found, naked, battered, bleeding. He suffered multiple injuries, cared for me on world while I was incapacitated. He performed better than most other Padawans his age would ever be able to. Under pressure, his work is unmatched. And you would give no allowance to the things he has suffered? Where is your compassion, Master Windu?” Obi-wan said, surprised with himself yet emboldened. 

“Compassion has always been a weakness of yours, Obi-wan.” Mace shot back irritably. “It is not something a Jedi should hide behind.” 

Obi-wan found himself on the outside. If only Qui-gon could see him now, he would be endlessly entertained. Obi-wan Kenobi, openly disagreeing with the council. _Now i’ve seen it all,_ he could almost hear his late Master say. 

“You seek to blame Anakin for faults that are hardly his at all. He is displaying normal reactions for someone who has been through what he has.” Obi-wan said, standing his ground. He could feel his blood pressure rise as his heart beat faster.

“Right, Obi-wan is.” Yoda said, cutting Mace off just as he was about to speak again. Looking to the little green Master, Mace’s lips drew into a straight line as he now regarded Obi-wan with great displeasure. “Struggle, the boy has. Struggle of now and of old. Help him we should, chastise him for his reactions, we should not, for warranted they are.” Yoda said in his wise voice. 

Obi-wan looked to him with a measure of thankfulness with thinly veiled anger over his heart. How could he not blame him, for everything? Perhaps Yoda felt that same responsibility weighing heavily on his shoulders. Obi-wan hoped it was so. 

The chamber had grown silent. Mace sighed. So there was more to say, then? Odd, Obi-wan thought. What else could there possibly be to discuss? 

“We understand that you are not yet fully well,” Mace trailed off. Obi-wan stood patiently waiting, an ever pleasant look on his face as his patience wore thin.

“As soon as you are able, the council has a mission for you and young Skywalker.” Mace stated in a neutral voice with placid features. 

“And what might that be?” Obi-wan asked, trying to sound as conversational as possible to hide his annoyance that lie beneath. Could they really be saddling them with another mission, so soon after their last botched one? 

“There is a situation on Devaron that requires the attention of a Jedi Master with talents such as yours.” Mace said, breaking away from his more irritable manner and returning to a friendly conversational tone. 

“Again I ask, what might that be, Master Windu?” Obi-wan asked with a small smile on the edge of aggravation from the roundabout way in which Mace was speaking. 

“The Temple of Eedit requires a saber drill instructor. The position has been vacant for a little while now, not many wish to stay on the fringes of the republic so permanently.” Mace said, his rogue smile widening. 

_A drill instructor?_ “Surely you must be joking, Master. I’m not a schoolhouse teacher.” Obi-wan insisted indignantly. 

“It’s only a temporary assignment. No more than two weeks. The council thought it best for you and your Padawan after the troublesome mission on Kraysiss Two. This will give you a chance to truly decompress.” Master Plo said in his deep kind voice. 

“I see,” Obi-wan said, pursing his lips. He wasn’t sure why he felt so vehemently against the assignment. Surely he had no good reason to be so opposed other than for the sake of being contrary. That wasn’t it, was it? 

No, it was the sign of the tension between him and Anakin that was manifesting itself in his interactions with others. Besides, he had been on guard after the lengthy questioning after his report. It was understandable he would be reacting in such a way. He quickly acknowledged it, and brought it underfoot quickly. 

“We will leave as soon as the healers give me clearance, then.” Obi-wan said more agreeably. 

“We appreciate your reticence, Obi-wan.” Mace said with a friendly smile and a nod. 

“Of course,” Obi-wan said with a polite ceremonial bow. “Will that be all, Masters?” He asked, avoiding looking straight on at Master Yoda for fear his improving demeanor might falter. 

“Yes, Master Kenobi. Now go and rest up. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know.” Mace said. 

With another short bow Obi-wan dismissed himself and returned to the small shared apartment. 

…….

Anakin paced the small space in his personal quarters relentlessly. He had heard his Master awake early that morning and head out, to the council no doubt, to give his report. Anakin had heavy bags under his eyes from lack of sleep and too much crying since he had shut himself off in his room the evening prior. 

Obi-wan didn’t even try to speak with him after, to make amends or even make him feel better. It hurt Anakin that he hadn’t, but all the same he ought to have been more stable on his own to begin with. Of course his Master wasn’t going to try to reinforce bad habits. All the same, this hardy fell into the category of usual matters. 

Anakin couldn’t help but think, that perhaps the reason his Master hadn’t come to him was because he wasn’t to be his Master for much longer. What good would it do him to try to keep something alive when it was clearly dying? And that’s what it was, wasn’t it? That’s what they were-- _a lost cause_. Anakin would never have to find out how he truly felt about the man, because his Master was throwing him away before he could get a chance to figure it out. His stomach churned angirly, warring with his beliefs. Every cell in his body rejected the idea of Obi-wan no longer being his Master. 

And within it all, Anakin felt restless. Why didn’t he know? How could he not know how he felt about him? Maybe if he could come to terms with his own emotions, it would make everything easier with Obi-wan. But he had no idea. He loved him like a Master, the man who had been the only constant for over half of his life. But everything else was different. Was it love? 

No, it was confusion. Things that were incompatible with each other. Was it anger that Obi-wan had taken advantage of him in such a way, just to leave him with no answers? What answers did he seek? Maybe he needed to know what Obi-wan felt about him, too. That must have been the other half of what was broken inside. A broken mess left in chaos in the aftermath of what had happened. 

If only he could put the pieces together. It was just so difficult, since he could hardly speak openly about any of this with Obi-wan. And maybe, he would never again get the chance. His eyes welled with hot tears of regret at the thought. Even now his questions and confusion festered inside of him like a sickness, only getting worse with time. 

He searched for things inside, that he knew to be true. Did he love Obi-wan? Yes. He did. But how? As a Master. As something more? Maybe if what they had shared had been consensual from the start, then he might have better understanding. He resented Obi-wan, but for what? Was it for ignoring what he had done to him, acting as if it had never happened? Or was it for the act itself? 

The emotions he felt were so twisted and all enveloping, it was impossible to root them out. Not while he was so upset. But he had narrowed down two important truths. He loved Obi-wan, in some way. And he was terribly angry with him. 

He was so angry, it made his body tremble. The more he thought of it, the worse it became. The not knowing why he felt this way was another factor that only compounded his growing rage. 

Lost in his own thoughts, his own turbulent emotions, he didn’t notice Obi-wan’s presence when he walked through the door to his quarters. Anakin was shaking with rage. But at the sight of his Master, it all turned to inexorable grief in an instant. It choked him, but he fought against it as well as he could in the moment. 

He was going to leave him. No longer would Obi-wan be his Master. Sure they had their fights, their disagreements and squabbles. But Anakin felt anchored to the man in ways that made him whole. To take away his Master, would be to remove a piece of himself. Was that was love was? 

Anakin didn’t know. All he knew was the sharp pain in his chest as he looked at the man, who in return, began to grow sorry. His jewel blue eyes became heavy with tears, his brow creased with regret. 

What was it that he regretted, Anakin wondered? Still not a word had passed between them, until Anakin forced himself to take a shaky breath, followed by unsteady words. 

“So this is goodbye, then.” Anakin said, his chest shuddering with raw emotion. 

“No,” Obi-wan said, shaking his head as he stepped in closer, looking like he might reach out to embrace him, but stopped short of actually doing so. Anakin’s heart fluttered, stopped, his stomach twisted with confusion, anger and so much more than he could ever put words to. 

“I made a promise to you, I was wrong to think of breaking it. I’m sorry I betrayed your confidence.” Obi-wan said formally, holding back his own emotions. Anakin could feel them trickle across their bond.

But then his Master retreated even further, closing off his innermost self from leaching into his aura. He grew silent through the force, with much effort on Obi-wan’s part. His eyes were dull and distant, yet strained. 

“I hope to regain your trust.” Obi-wan stated, only glancing up to meet Anakin’s gaze for a moment. “I want to get to the way things were, before…” He added, trailing off. 

It was somewhat of a relief to hear, since it was exactly what Anakin longed for. Maybe there was hope after all, he thought. But something in Obi-wan’s tone of voice seemed like even he knew it was unattainable. 

Anakin didn’t know if they could get back to the way things were. Maybe, if he could understand exactly how he felt about Obi-wan. Then he could put it to rest in his mind. His heart surged with emotion, as he felt the overwhelming to reach out and hold his Master. He stepped forwards to act on the impulse, but Obi-wan stepped back in kind. 

Then he switched the topic. “Next week or whenever i’m deemed well enough, the council has another mission for us,” Obi-wan said, clearly uncomfortable. 

Anakin was hurt by his Master’s avoidance, but didn’t let it show. At least, not very much if he did. Obi-wan, who knew how to read him better than anyone, undoubtedly felt it. But Anakin pushed past it. “Another mission?” He asked, genuinely surprised. He was happy to have some time alone with his Master to get past, whatever it was that was stuck between them. 

“Yes, to the Temple of Edit.” Obi-wan said dryly, not masking his lack of enthusiasm. 

“Devaron? Why go all the way out there?” Anakin asked in complaint. 

“Apparently they’re in need of a saber drill instructor for a week or so. And i’ve been drafted for the task. You’ll come with me and resume your usual studies and practice.” Obi-wan said in explanation. 

“A saber drill instructor?” Had Anakin been in a less serious mood he would have laughed. “That’s hardly what I would call a mission.” Anakin said, perhaps a tad bit irritated about being doled out such a menial task. 

“The council wouldn’t have sent us if they didn’t think it best.” Obi-wan said in their defense. It sounded like there was more behind his words, but he didn’t divulge any more details. 

Anakin didn’t agree with his Master’s statement, but he wasn’t about to voice his dissent. Not after the emotional whiplash he felt from being so distressed for so long, only to have his darker fears abated for the time being. He thought he should try to be as agreeable as possible, for the moment. 

“At any rate, i’m going to go rest. The virus, nanites, whatever it is, has been taking a toll.” Obi-wan said with an unsure expression. It seemed more an excuse to dismiss himself without seeming rude or evasive. Anakin was sure had to have been _some_ truth to his words, but Obi-wan wasn’t saying what he ment. 

His Master was lying to him, again, to avoid having to speak the less desirable truths. Truly Anakin didn’t want to fight with his Master _again._ But he couldn’t stand to be lied to, right after his Master had finished with saying he wanted to rebuild trust. When would that start, if he couldn’t quit with the avoidant excuses? 

To Anakin’s surprise and against his own desire to make peace with his Master, Obi-wan’s words ignited a tempest of anger that burned brightly. “Why do you even bother?” Anakin said flaty, his face placid with disdain. 

“I beg your pardon?” Obi-wan said, caught of guard by the sudden shift in Anakin’s mood. 

“You said you wanted my trust. If you want to leave, you don’t have to make excuses for it.” Anakin declared righteously. Obi-wan seemed lost for words. 

“Why don’t you just say what you mean? Tell me what’s on your mind? Or do I not deserve that much?” Anakin said, gaining momentum. 

Obi-wan’s face wore a look of guilt. Anakin felt gratified for it. All of the anger he held towards his Master twisted with his love for the man, turned into something that felt like betrayal. Is that what it was? He didn’t know. All he did know was that it hurt, the pain of everything spilling out of him. Now that the surface had broken, he couldn’t rein it back in. He didn’t know how to make it stop. 

“No, i’m not worth the effort,” Anakin said, hot tears stinging at his eyes. 

“You’re upset, and saying things you _know_ aren’t true.” Obi-wan stated in his cold, logistical manner as he took a detached stance. 

“That’s the difference between you and I, Master,” Anakin said in a low taunting voice. “I _mean_ what I say.”

“You’re making something out of nothing, Anakin.” Obi-wan said, his eyes glaring into his own. _Finally,_ Anakin thought. _Now he’ll look me in the eye._

Obi-wan no longer stood aloof and distant, but his body language grew frustrated. Angry, even. _So that’s what it takes to get him to look at me._ Anakin thought with relish. _Just have to push enough buttons._

If there was anything Anakin knew with his Master, it was how to do just that. Something as simple as his Master looking at him without that avoidant shame made his heart feel light in his chest. It felt like Obi-wan could see him, _really_ see him for the first time since that night when he had used him. Anakin wondered what his Master saw in him now. Did he see him as he was then? What did it make him feel? Did he feel anything at all? 

Anakin stormed close to his Master, drinking every moment of the man’s eyes delving into his like he might never receive such attention ever again. He was still angry, so much that he found himself trembling yet again. That twisted sense he felt before sank into his heart, into his chest until he couldn’t breathe. 

He stood there, inches away. He could feel Obi-wan’s body heat, his restless energy rampant in his aura-- nothing like the calm steady waves that usually emanated from him. Something inside the man opened up, beyond the anger, there was vulnerability. A subtle change in the aggression in his eyes. It was desire, expertly hidden so that it might have gone ever unnoticed, but nothing was so easily hidden from Anakin who knew him better than anyone else who drew breath. 

Somehow it only made Anakin more angry. “Do you think if you lie to yourself enough, you’ll eventually believe it?” Anakin snarled. 

“I think that this conversation, is over.” Obi-wan said with dry finality, turning to leave. 

Pushed to his breaking point, Anakin reached out to grab his Master’s arm firmly as the man turned. Spurred by their training reflexes and fueled by the growing tension that mounted between them, Obi-wan twisted Anakin’s arm, pulling him into a headlock. In turn Anakin kicked the back of one of his Master’s knees, sending them both tumbling to the floor, each one of them wrestling to subdue the other. 

The two of them tumbled and scuffled, throwing jabs and punches, none of which were aimed to truly hurt so much as they were strategic. There was a type of serenity Anakin found in the mock combat between himself and his Master. The sensation of a body against his own was comforting in a meditative way. It soothed the pain that ripped in his chest, replacing it with something else. It was unidentifiable for the moment, but pleasant at the very least. 

Their struggle came to a halt as Anakin stopped resisting. Obi-wan had one wrist in each hand, pinning him to the floor of his quarters. Both of them were panting for breath, void of any anger they might have held at the start. In its place, a deep longing. Obi-wan’s eyes flashed with panic in the next moment.

Then, In the very next heartbeat, Obi-wan released his hold on him, quickly rising up and making a hasty exit without a word.


	11. Light

Obi-wan was beside himself when he found himself pinning his Padawan to the floor of the boy’s quarters. He couldn’t explain the reaction that had led them to this, but now that he had a moment to stop and think, he was horrified. Anakin’s wrists were held firmly in his grip-- _posessively_ even. And he just lie there, no longer resisting or protesting. Anakin simply looked up at him with a startling expression mirroring what Obi-wan felt within himself, as well. And it terrified him. 

As quickly as he could without calling on the force to aid him, Obi-wan rushed out of Anakin’s quarters, his head faint and dizzy with panic. He ran, wishing he could get away from the hunger that stirred in his flesh-- the need to have Anakin in all the ways he should never want. The feel of the boy’s body beneath his own unleashed a tempest of forbidden desire. He was struggling against the sick, twisted thoughts, the likes of which he didn’t want to be capable of feeling. 

Only now there were no Sith to blame. His latent appetite had been exposed, and it had grown so much more ravenous for all the effort he put into his own denial. It made Obi-wan nauseous and shaky, a thin sheen of sweat manifesting on his brow. He wanted to rationalize, to find a reason for all of it. He supposed it was possible that he was experiencing the tail end of the virus. He begged the force to take it from him, along with the last bits of dark tissue that had woven itself throughout his body. He prayed for it to take it away from him, the curse that it was. He would even cut off his own arm if it meant he wouldn’t have to be plagued with such seditious cravings. 

But the force couldn’t be bargained with, not at any cost. 

…….

Obi-wan’s abrupt leave from Anakin’s quarters left him stunned, still pinned in place as if his Master had continued to hold him down. His heart was heavy, weighed down by the emptiness of being alone. He pressed his wrists into the rough carpet, needing to feel someone’s wanting hold on him. 

He didn’t know if he loved his Master that way, but the physical nature of such contact made him _feel_. It blotted out everything that confused his heart and mind. There was no room to think. It was bliss, and Anakin knew he needed more.

But Obi-wan was just as confused as he was, Anakin’s chest burned with restless anger as he thought of it. His Master wouldn’t be able to give him any meaningful answers or peace of mind, when he had no such thing within himself. They were a broken pair of souls, fractured down the middle of their bond, things like longing and desire shattered in fragments on both sides. But it did little to draw them together. It only seemed to drive them further apart. 

Anakin needed to sort himself out, but he didn’t know where to begin. His Master was usually his guiding light, the one who kept him sure footed when he was close to losing his way. Only now, Obi-wan was just as lost as him. His heart filled with lead and sank down into his belly. It had become apparent to him now more than ever, that things would never go back to the way things were. 

…….

It had been a long, silent week. Obi-wan continued on acting as if nothing had happened. Anakin tried his best to let him, as much as he could put his own hurt feelings aside. Just as usual, he had been less than successful. There had been multiple shouting matches between the two of them, typically over things that were less than trivial. Of course the issue at hand, the _real_ issue was never spoken of. It lie silent between them, ever present in their minds, never present in their words. 

But it had been tangible, between Obi-wan’s avoidant stare, how he seemed to wilt at the simplest things. Aside from the changes in his demeanor, Obi-wan had been working hard to portray his usual sternness. Only before it had been undercut with a gentleness of intention. Now, that had been replaced with an even less adept aloofness than he had ever possessed before. 

In it all, Anakin knew what his Master was fighting against. It made his chest tickle with nervousness when he thought about it. Obi-wan would never act on it, never like he had back on Kraysiss Two. How could he give himself license to do such a thing? Anakin wanted him to be so bold, wanted him to reach out, to touch him like he wanted to. He was tired of the games, the act of making it seem as if everything was just fine, when it wasn’t. But he knew that was never going to happen. The only sure thing was that his Master would continue on acting distant as their bond deteriorated. It had already slowly began to crumble. 

That was why Anakin hadn’t felt his Master’s presence when he walked through the doors to his quarters. It was nearing night time, and Anakin hadn’t eaten dinner that night. Or the night before, or the one before that. He had been deliberately skipping the meal to avoid having to sit with his Master. Before this whole mess, they would sit together in their shared living quarters and eat dinner nearly every night with one another.

With every night Anakin had been absent, Obi-wan hadn’t said a single thing about it. Anakin wondered what was different about this night? He supposed he was about to find out. 

Anakin glanced over at his Master, then resumed looking straight forward at the wall. In spite of his still exterior, Anakin could feel his heart slam against his ribs, his stomach tightening as his breath became shallow. There was the anger that had been so constant, rising in his chest. His skin tickled and his heart ached. It was all bitter ash in his mouth, making his lips curl into a slight frown. 

“We’re leaving for the Temple of Eedit tomorrow morning,” Obi-wan said in his typical Jedi Master voice. 

“So you’re not sick anymore?” Anakin asked, giving Obi-wan a side glance. If his Master was truly better, he would be genuinely happy for it. But he wasn’t going to be showing such displays of emotion. Not even a smile could break from the ever slight frown that took hold of his lips. 

“No,” Obi-wan said, his voice unsure, although his words were absolute. “I’ve been declared fit for duty.” 

“Do you _feel_ better?” Anakin asked, curious at the uncertainty in Obi-wan’s words. 

“I don’t know, I suppose so,” Obi-wan said passively, ready to quit the subject. “Regardless, we’ll be leaving at seven-hundred hours tomorrow morning.” He paused, seeming as if there were something else to be said. 

Anakin looked over at him again, this time holding his gaze. The lock of eyes stirred the man to continue. “I figured you would want to eat some dinner, since we have a long day of travel ahead of us tomorrow.” Obi-wan said, gesturing towards the living quarters. His eyes were tired yet soft, not the defensive, distant look he had during the last week. 

But Anakin was afraid to lower his guard, lest his heart be hurt again, or worse, should he lose his temper. “I’m not hungry.” Anakin said flatly, his stare returning to the wall again. 

“Are you sure?” Obi-wan asked, maybe even a shade of pain in his voice. Anakin returned with silence. 

“Alright, I'll see you in the morning, then.” Obi-wan said, turning to leave. 

Anakin sat up for the remainder of that evening, into the late, then early hours, brooding. His eyes were heavy with fatigue by the time Obi-wan entered his room again that next day. 

“Anakin?” Obi-wan called out, talking to the lump under the covers that was his barely conscious Padawan. 

“ _Mmmh._ ” Anakin grumbled angrily, stirring under the covers. He had only just fallen asleep as his Master had come in to wake him. 

“Come now young one,” For a moment he almost thought he could hear tell of a smile in Obi-wan’s voice. It sent a jolt of hope into Anakin’s tired heart. 

“Okay, okay,” He answered groggily. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Obi-wan turned to leave while Anakin got himself ready. 

Less than an hour later, the two of them were boarding a small transport. Anakin took the helm, not willing to let the pilot droid fly for them. Not only would it be an effective way to avoid the heavy awkward silence that would undoubtedly thicken the air between them, but Anakin wasn’t ready to let anyone else fly, not since the crash on Krayssis Two. 

Seemingly indifferent to Anakin’s intention to be unavailable for conversation, Obi-wan sat beside him in the co-pilot’s chair as they rose up into one of the express extraplanetary departure lanes reserved for official Republic use. Anakin loved to fly, but he hated the Coruscanti gridlock that plagued the world. Between his Master sitting irritatingly silent beside him, and the longer than desirable que to get out into hyperspace, he began to grow restless. 

“You can go back and rest Master, I won’t crash the ship, I promise.” Anakin said dryly.

“I’ve never doubted your skills as a pilot, Anakin.” Obi-wan answered back in a measured, subdued voice.

Anakin sighed. _Then what do you want?_ He wanted badly to ask, but things weren’t well enough for him to be so blunt. If he started down that path, it was only going to spiral from there. That much, he knew. It had been the pattern over the last week, anyhow. 

“It’s been a long week, we’ve not spoken much since…” Obi-wan wan started then trailed off. Anakin could hear the man’s hand running down the length of his face, pulling over his auburn beard in moderate distress.

“I know things have been... tense between us,” Obi-wan continued. Anakin’s heart began to pound in his chest, quickening his breath. Why did he have to talk about this now, of all times? Did he really have anything to say?

“I need to apologize, I haven’t been as available for you as I ought to. I’ve been distracted. That last mission has affected us both more than I think either of us have admitted. I haven’t been the Master you deserve.” Obi-wan confessed, his words mild and sincere. 

Anakin’s heart wrenched as his Master pulled on wounds that continued to bleed deep within. He stared out the viewport intensely as he looked ahead to the next ship in line. Only three more vessels to go before he could throttle out past the gridlock. His hands itched in anticipation. He wanted to get up and run, to exert himself. Anything to get out of the uncomfortable conversation that unfolded in the small cabin of the transport he found himself stuck in.

“I’m not blind to the fact that I might not know the… the scope of all you went through on our last mission.” Obi-wan spilled, every one of his words sounding painfully forced. “It’s been selfish of me to ignore it.”

Anakin felt a lump grow in his throat. He wanted to laugh, to scream, to burst into tears. To go to Obi-wan and bury his face in his Master’s chest, to hold him, to hit him, to throw him out an airlock, to hurt him how he had been hurt. It was all too much, it made him feel sick as the color of his skin turned ashen. Anakin gripped the yolk in his hands as if it were the only thing keeping him alive, the peaks of his knuckles turning white. 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-wan said in a whisper. Anakin didn’t look but he thought he might have heard a few tears in his horrified voice. Two more ships in front of them. Just two more and then Anakin could turn on the autopilot and retreat into the fresher, lock the door, stay there for as long as it took for him to feel okay. 

The whole week he had wanted his Master to open up, but he never wanted this. Obi-wan thought of him as weak, pathetic. Anakin only wanted to have things cleared up between them, not for his Master to pity him. 

“You know, after the Sith came through, I woke up and you were all bruised and cut up, and just laying in my arms, I-” Obi-wan stopped, breathing through a sob that wanted to rip out of his throat. “I thought we were both going to die. It’s the only time i’ve ever felt that way. I was so angry,” he lamented. 

Anakin lowered his gaze from the viewport to look over at Obi-wan. Sparse tears fell from his weathered eyes. He didn’t wipe them away, or apologise for them. It seemed wrong to sit and watch his Master lay such vulnerable truths at his feet. Anakin wanted to stop him, it was clear every word was torture for him to speak. But he kept on. 

“After what they had done to you I… the dark, it was everywhere, and I _used_ it, I killed them like it was nothing.” Obi-wan said, his eyes empty, his face pale. 

Suddenly Anakin turned from his own muddled feelings. It was easy to put himself aside when his Master was so obviously distraught. Anakin might have expected what Obi-wan was saying to shock him, but it didn’t. And he most certainly didn’t think worse of him for it. The council had alluded to him doing as much, but he had never expected a confession from the man. 

“You did what you had to do,” Anakin said honestly. Only one more ship in line before them, now. 

Obi-wan broke into a short laugh, his eyes not smiling but showing a deeper fear. “So I tell myself.” 

“The Sith are our sworn enemies.” Anakin stated as fact. “They’re a threat to all living things.” 

A flash of agony lit up his Master’s eyes. “I can’t justify what was done.” 

“What other option did you have, Master? If you didn’t kill them, they would have killed both of us.” Anakin said, confused at what had Obi-wan so torn. Yes, he called on the dark. But in that place, the light was scarce to be found. 

“I didn’t kill them because they were Sith.” Obi-wan said, his eyes deeply introspective. 

“You killed them because they were going to kill us.” Anakin repeated insistently. 

“No.” Obi-wan said, shaking his head. 

“Then why?” Anakin asked, even more confused, near frustration. 

“Because of what they _did_ to you.” Obi-wan nearly whispered, his face wrought with anguish. “I thought you were lost.” 

Anakin’s breath faltered. He could feel his Master’s regret loudly, almost as if it were his own. It felt strange to have Obi-wan admit such a thing to him, such evidence of attachment, the sort forbidden to any Jedi.

“I think any other Master would have felt the same.” Anakin rationalized, trying to ease the burden from Obi-wan’s shoulders. Afterall, it was natural for Masters and Padawans to form attachments, bonds. In such extreme situations as the one they had been in, there weren’t many alternatives, regardless of personal feelings.

“Maybe.” Obi-wan said. Clearly he didn’t feel any better for Anakin’s practical remarks. Now who was the cold calculating one, and who the emotional one? The role reversal was comical, and brought a small smile to Anakin’s face. 

Obi-wan’s expression lightened slightly. “What are you smiling about?” He asked, still serious but with less pain in his eyes. 

“It’s just ironic, I’m usually the inconsolable one, not the logical one.” Anakin said with his brows raised in a light tone. Finally it was their turn to break orbit. Anakin pulled back on the accelerator and sped off into the hyperspace zone, where at last, they began their journey. 

Anakin’s eyes had been fixed on the controls when Obi-wan spoke, but he could hear the man’s mood lighten, even letting out a small chuckle. “That it is,” he said, taking a breath for composure. 

“That it is.” 

…….

It had been a long day of travel for Obi-wan and Anakin by the time they made it to Devaron. As much as they both were ready to sleep, at the temple day had only just broken, so there was no time for rest.

Their journey had been spent in a less cumbersome silence after the slight dialogue they had shared at the start, but Anakin still wasn’t entirely at ease with the way things were. Though things had greatly improved. And it had only taken a few uncomfortable moments, a few painful words. It had clearly helped his Master, who now exchanged his look of suffering for one of neutral exhaustion. 

Anakin knew it would take a lot more for things to be alright, but it was a good start. One thing seemed to be clear on both sides, and that was the fact that their relationship was important to both of them. They shared an attachment to one another, whatever the truth of it might have been. Obi-wan wasn’t going to cast him aside or give up on him, and Anakin wasn’t going to either. With that set in stone, everything else would follow accordingly, he was sure. So it was okay that things were uneasy, a tad bit uncomfortable. 

As they sauntered out of the transport onto the small landing pad down the road from the temple, already Anakin could feel the powerful vergence in the force the temple had been constructed atop. The strength of it along with the life of the sprawling growth all around them, was pacifying. Obi-wan stretched and breathed in the early morning air, the sun only just cresting beyond the thick canopy of trees beyond the temple. 

It was a majestic sight. In many ways, Devaron was similar to Kraysiss Two, both worlds displaying lush greenery. And for how much light energy was concentrated in this place, Kraysiss Two had held an equal portion of darkness. But here everything was brimming with life and light. Even in comparison to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the force was distinctly powerful around the Temple of Eedit. 

Instantly, Anakin understood why they had been sent there. The force seemed to foster regeneration and healing. He could feel the light pulling at his own darkness, dissolving the hardened edges like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t the result of a life born into slavery, with so many wounds of the soul as a result. 

With a sense of brightening spirits, Anakin looked over to Obi-wan who wore a kind smile. He didn’t hastily avert his eyes afterwards, nor did he hold a shameful core to his gaze. It was the first time Anakin had seen him so unburdened since before their Sith ordeal. It pulled the weight of too much off of his shoulders. Maybe in this place, he could simply be a Padawan again. And Obi-wan, could simply be his Master. 

As Master and Padawan neared the doors to the temple, another pair of beings emerged from within. A male Zabrak Master stepped forwards, his robes a lighter, creamier color than the taupe and brown that had been most common for wear on Coruscant. The brightness of his clothing contrasted the rich umber of his skin, even more shocking were the lavender colored irises in his wide shapely eyes. 

The other being who stepped forwards with him, presumably his Padawan, was a boy that seemed to be around Anakin’s age, give or take. He was average in stature, his raven colored hair fashioned in a slightly longer than usual Padawan’s cut, the customary braid hanging forward over his shoulder. His eyes were a nondescript gray or blue, indistinguishable in color at the distance which they stood. His robes were golden with lighter cream colored cloth layered atop them. Both Padawan and Master seemed bright with energy, beaming through the force. Even Obi-wan seemed to be surprised by their strong presence as they came near to the Temple. 

“Hello, I’m Obi-wan Kenobi and this is my Padawan, Anakin Skywalker. We’ve been sent to-” He started formally but was cut off by the Zabrak. 

“Yes, yes, Kenobi and Skywalker. We are honored you’ve decided to come all this way for such a mundane assignment,” the man stated in a soft yet charismatic voice. 

“No such thing as a mundane assignment,” Obi-wan countered, put off only slightly. 

“In formalities, of course not. But you need not be so formal with us, Master Kenobi.” The Zabrak chuckled. “But how rude! I haven’t given an introduction. I am Zaann Qualturus and this is my Padawan, Jerot Tokani.” Zaann said, with a grand sweeping gesture of his arm. “I oversee temple affairs.” 

Obi-wan showed a small smile beneath raised brows as he bowed his head. “A pleasure, thank you for having us.” 

“Nonsense! The pleasure is ours.” Zaann insisted in a melodic tone of voice, that Anakin was beginning to understand, was his typical cadence. 

“If you will, we would like to take you on a tour, to get you both acquainted with your new, temporary home.” Zaann said in the next moment. 

Anakin and Obi-wan bobbed their heads agreeably. “Splendid! This way, follow me,” he continued, genuinely extatic to show off the small temple grounds. 

…….

The temple tour had lasted the whole morning. For how small the grounds were in comparison to Coruscant, they were still sizable and large enough to be rather grand. Obi-wan had been exhausted upon arrival, but now he found himself even more drained than before. 

And it was more than just a physical exhaustion, it was his soul, his spirit that was aching from being bathed in so much darkness for so long on Kraysiss Two. Obi-wan was surprised he hadn’t healed more spiritually while on Coruscant. After all, the Jedi Temple there was perched atop a powerful force nexus. But that for some reason, wasn’t quite the same as being here. 

But all the same, he had been sulking that entire week, and still affected by the Sith virus. Now that he was free of the dark strain, he was able to draw upon the light as much as he desired. It was something he had been missing ever since they landed on Kraysiss Two. Now Obi-wan intended to make up for lost time, opening himself up to the force completely. And in this place, it was easy. 

Even Anakin had loosened up, the boy’s shoulders becoming less rigid. Perhaps he was on his way to making a friend, Zaann’s Padawan, Jerot. The two of them had been talking and laughing all morning during the tour. It brought a genuine smile to Obi-wan’s lips and a warmth to his heart to see Anakin not only healing from the horror of their last mission, but connecting with someone his age. Anakin had always struggled to get along with other Padawans. Perhaps it was the energy of this place, purifying his spirit. Obi-wan hoped it was so. 

Obi-wan felt the light working on his own darker aspects and fears. It seemed to put things into perspective, brushing things aside or eliminating them altogether. Now when he looked at Anakin, with some effort, he was able to put the lurid images and memories to the back of his mind. 

It wasn’t quite automatic, but the shame seemed to be detached from his struggle so that he could become more objective. He no longer feared the feelings that stirred inside of him, but saw them differently. Because he cared about Anakin, that’s why he had, and would continue to do everything in his power to do what was best for the boy, no matter how hard it might have been. He loved Anakin, and that conquered everything else. 

And the light would seem to agree with that sentiment, too. Or at least, it encouraged it. Obi-wan wasn’t entirely sure it was a line of thought the council would agree with, and was nearly certain they would vehemently disagree, but it didn’t matter. And that, surprised Obi-wan to no end. It was usually unlike him to disagree with the council, inwardly or externally, but he was at peace with his emotions, and with himself. Finally, he had found a sense of acceptance. 

It was a tangible quality all throughout the temple of Eedit. It was personified by Master Qualturus, who smiled broadly often and whose charismatic gentleness was refracted by every Jedi in the temple they had come into contact with. Obi-wan was trying to narrow down the exact differences between Eedit and the Coruscant Temple when the two of them were finally taken to the dorm section. It seemed like there was a simplicity to life here that was all but missing in Coruscant, but he had only been able to think in broad terms, as his mind had tired after being awake for so long. 

“I’m sure you both must be exhausted,” Zaann said emphatically. “You two should get settled, rest up a bit, then if you are so inclined, come down to the dining hall. Dinner is served in about two hours.” 

“Two hours? It’s hardly noon,” Anakin blurted. 

“I’m afraid our cycles are much shorter than the ones you’re used to. And as such, we only eat two meals per day. Breakfast and Dinner.” Zaann explained. “But you’ll acclimate to it rather quickly, everyone always does.” 

“You would know that if you kept up on your temple classes, Anakin,” Obi-wan chided playfully. 

“He’ll have plenty of time to get caught up, here. Less hustle and bustle than Coruscant, many say it makes it easier to focus.” Zaann said with a smile. 

“At any rate, here are your quarters. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to let us know.” Zaann said in departure. 

“Thank you for everything.” Obi-wan said with a short bow which Anakin emulated perfectly. 

“And it was nice to meet you Master Kenobi, Anakin.” Padawan Jerot said with a polite nod of his head towards the both of them.

Once the two hosts turned to leave, Obi-wan and Anakin hastily entered their temporary shared quarters to collapse on their respective sleepers. There had been no debate on which room would go to whom, since they were both identical, save for a larger window in one, which Anakin left for his Master. 

The moment Obi-wan’s head hit the pillow, he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has a great weekend, I 'll see you all in the next upload!  
> Blu3


	12. Belong

“Master, it’s time to go to dinner,” Anakin spoke gently to wake Obi-wan, who had collapsed face up on the sleeper still fully clad in his boots and cloak. 

Obi-wan gave no response. Anakin hesitantly stepped further inside the room. “Master?” He called out louder. The man still hadn’t moved. 

Anakin came in closer still, a slight fear creeping over his senses that was quickly brushed aside. He was breathing at least. Anakin reached out to put a hand on the man’s shoulder to shake him awake, but stopped just shy of contact. 

Anakin found himself in slight awe. This is what Obi-wan looked like when he was at peace. The gently weathered lines in his beautiful features relaxed, nearly smoothing out entirely, but not quite. In them were the phantom tells of smiles, frowns, that stern face he made whenever he was in deep thought. No one would ever know the ways he had seen this man’s face filled with such passion, but Anakin remembered.

It made him nervous to think about, just the slightest current of fear under the ocean of his own emotions, which largely remained unknown even to himself. Anakin traced a finger bodly over Obi-wan’s lips, wondering what he might feel if he kissed him. Still, his Master didn’t wake. The thought pulled on his desires, to pull a hand through Obi-wan’s auburn hair, to feel his lips, soft and warm, pressed against his mouth. 

Before Anakin could think to act on his urges, a loud knock at the door of their quarters sounded throughout the dwelling. Anakin jumped, as Obi-wan startled awake as well. Anakin could feel his aura bright with shock, as he was violently pulled from sleep to the present moment, where his Master stared up at him in dither. 

“I was just about to wake you. It’s time for dinner,” Anakin said, visibly flustered as his face flushed bright red. He pursed his lips and glowered at the ground in embarrassment. 

“Oh, well then let’s get going, shall we? It appears I’m dressed and ready to go.” Obi-wan answered back, moving quickly past his obvious surprise. Anakin was glad for his Master’s discretion, but it didn’t entirely relieve him of his distress. 

He followed the man out the door of their quarters to meet with Zaann, who patiently waited to escort them to the dining hall. He had shown it to them during their tour, and since the temple of Eedit was similar in layout to that of the Coruscant temple, they would have been easily able to find their way on their own, as had they expected to. But on Devaron, as they were learning, people operated differently by default.

“Did you get some rest? Feeling more refreshed I hope,” Zaann said with a wide smile.

“Indeed. Thank you.” Obi-wan said with polite formality. 

“I feel like you’ve gotten to know me quite well this morning, I know once I get going, I just can’t stop talking. But I feel like I've hardly gotten to know you yet, Master Kenobi.” Zaann said with a genuine quality to his voice as they started down the corridor towards the dining hall. 

Anakin could sense his Master was put off by the blunt openness that Master Qualturus seemed to habitually employ. Anakin on the other hand, found it quite refreshing, and equally amusing for his Master to have to put up with such a strong personality. It wasn’t difficult to discern the fact that Obi-wan, however much he respected Zaann, did not feel at ease in the presence of someone so relentlessly blithe. 

“Well I suppose we’ll have the chance to become better acquainted over the next couple of weeks.” Obi-wan said with self imposed brightness. 

“Yes, I’m dying to learn more about you Master Kenobi. You are somewhat of a haroled figure in the order, you must know.” Qualturus rambled. Anakin could sense his Master’s surprise. 

“How do you mean?” Obi-wan asked with genuine curiosity and just a touch of concern. 

“The only living Jedi to ever slay a Sith, is what I mean. And you were only a Padawan at the time, yes?” Zaann asked expectantly, his grin suddenly becoming cumbersome to Obi-wan. It was apparent in the way his eyes grew dull, retreating inwards rather than trying to appease the man further. 

Anakin knew what a touchy subject it was for his Master. The wound, however long ago it had been, was still fresh in some ways. He knew the bond between Obi-wan and his own Master had been forged strong. Anakin could never imagine losing his Master in such a horrific incident, being helpless as he could do nothing but watch. Even still, the manner in which Obi-wan retreated told Anakin that Zaann had touched on much more than an old wound. Obi-wan was the only living Jedi to ever kill a Sith, and now he had a total of ten of their deaths bestowed to his name. 

“It’s hardly a feat I’ve sought out for myself.” Obi-wan said defensively, seeming to regret the irritation in his words the moment he had spoken them. 

“Of course not, I’m sorry I don’t mean to glorify such things. But you must see what a fascination that has created in the minds of many other Jedi.” Zaann countered, slightly recanting his enthusiasm for the subject. 

Obi-wan have a quiet sigh as he gathered his composure yet again. “I suppose I can see the enigma which might appeal to some.” He replied, steadily regaining his lighter demeanor. 

“But there is much more to the man, is there not?” Zaann asked, directing his question towards Anakin, who looked back at Qualturus with raised brows. 

He was right, there was so, so much more. Anakin swallowed his deep agreeance with the sentiment, giving only a polite smile in return. 

Anakin could feel his Master’s understanding of the shift in his emotions, as Obi-wan’s aura shifted in kind. Suddenly Qualturus’s presence became more of an interrogating one, which immediately shut down both Master and Padawan to reciprocating any more probing. 

Of course in response to such an obvious change to the tone of the conversation, Zaann became that much more curious. “You two are an interesting pair. I can see how you would be an effective team in the field.” He noted. The observation was met with an uneasy silence from both Obi-wan and Anakin. 

“I apologize. I’m often told by my Padawan that I can be too much.” Zaann recanted. 

“It’s quite alright, Master Qualturus. I’m afraid I’m still rather tired, which makes me poor company.” Obi-wan said kindly. 

Finally, they arrived at the dining hall. As soon as they entered, Zaann’s Padawan Jerot strode over to meet the three of them. Jerot’s eyes, which Anakin had discovered were actually a cold steel grey, sparkled brightly as he greeted them. “Master Kenobi, Skywalker, I hope you both were able to rest some?” 

“I do believe our guests are still quite exhausted,” Zaann answered for them. Anakin had, for the most part, felt just fine. But it was apparent Obi-wan was indeed quite fatigued still. But they remained silent, letting Zaann’s statement speak for them instead. 

“They will no doubt want to eat and go straight back to their quarters to sleep some more.” Zaann concluded. Obi-wan’s aura felt brighter for the understanding, that he wouldn’t be obliged to pander to too much of the man’s incessant questions. But the sense of understanding only went so far. 

“Anakin, why don’t you go and sit with Jerot for dinner, while your Master and I become better acquainted?” Master Qualturus suggested happily. 

Anakin looked to his Master for permission, sensing Obi-wan probably didn’t want to be left alone with the overly jolly man who had already quickly exhausted him.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Jerot said happily, a suave smile brightening his expression. 

Obi-wan, however he resented it, was not in the position to dissent to such a benign request. This was a Jedi temple after all, and these were hardly their enemies. Anakin understood the placid smile that spread over his Master’s lips in response, with a twinge of empathy. 

“You boys don’t want to be burdened down by the company of two old men, anyhow.” Obi-wan said. Something about the way he spoke those words, stung at Anakin’s heart. He quickly brushed it aside for the sake of circumstance. 

Jerot pulled on Anakin’s arm lightly, directing him away from their Masters. “Let’s get some dinner.” He suggested. 

“Sure,” Anakin replied in a casually neutral tone, as he turned away from Obi-wan, leaving his Master at the mercy of Master Qualturus. He could feel the dull irritation burn across their bond. It made Anakin feel another pang of sympathy for him, with a slight brace of humor against it. There was always a certain gratifying entertaining quality to seeing his Master so gracefully navigate situations that would make the man grumble, as he would never show it. Not to others, anyhow. But he could never hide it from Anakin. 

…….

Obi-wan enjoyed the atmosphere of the temple of Eedit, and he respected that things were different. The diversity was to be expected, he thought. And it wasn’t so much that he didn’t trust Master Qualturus, because he did. But there was something about the man’s brazen jolly demeanor that couldn’t be conquered by hints or courteous smiles, or acquiescent nods. He had the outward expression more that of a politician by means of charisma, but without the dishonest undertow of agenda to demean it. His energy was exhausting, but in some ways admirable. Obi-wan didn’t consider himself quite so outgoing, not that he found himself as an introvert either. Reserved, perhaps, was the word to describe himself. 

But it was regrettable how Zaann seemed to push all the subliminal buttons to put Obi-wan on his guard. The fascination about dead Sith was only one off-putting factor in the situation that was making him feel more uncomfortable as time pressed on. The man had an unrestrained childlike curiosity that grated on Obi-wan’s nerves. 

As much as the force presence in the temple was notably strong, it didn’t wash his sins and regrets away with its presence, although he had tried to work on his faults. For all the bits and pieces of himself that he deemed still undesirable, even close to the dark, Qualturus seemed to hone in on those weaknesses and pick at them relentlessly. 

He and the Zabrak Master sat alone at a table on the edge of the dining hall, where Obi-wan could look out and see Anakin sitting with Jerot, where he was being introduced to a small group of other Padawan’s his age. With regret he could see Anakin’s reluctance to open up to the others. He had always had such a difficult time making friends in Coruscant. He hoped this place would be healing for him in all ways. 

A selfish thought crept up in his mind-- the hope that Anakin wouldn’t divulge the details of their previous mission to any newfound friends. It stabbed at Obi-wan’s heart to be able to think such a thing. He logically concluded Anakin would be too withdrawn and bashful to ever speak any of it. Obi-wan regarded his relief at the thought with a measure of horror. What was the purpose of such motivations? 

He was afraid of the same thing Anakin had been before-- that they would be forced apart from one another. Though what scared Obi-wan the most were the gaps in his memory. The moments he couldn’t account for, where he relied on Anakin’s word that more hadn’t transpired. That vision, the thought that it might have been enacted on his Padawan’s flesh made Obi-wan’s blood curdle. 

Obi-wan hadn’t been careful to censor his emotions from leaking across their bond. He turned a shade paler when Anakin looked at him from across the room, his eyes docile yet inquiring. He must have been able to feel the fear, Obi-wan thought. He prayed he couldn’t tell more, but drawing conclusions had never been particularly comforting in any regard. 

“You worry about your Padawan.” Zaann said, his voice broaching a subject well left alone. 

“Don’t we all, Master Qualturus?” Obi-wan said in a forced neutral voice, stirring his fork in the food he was trying to act interested in eating. It wasn’t particularly bad food, in fact it was quite flavorful. Only Obi-wan wasn’t too interested in eating with the mood he was in. 

“At times, I suppose.” The man countered in a learned way, as he tried to bring his eccentricity down to Obi-wan’s level of reservation. “And you, do you worry excessively, or justly?” 

Obi-wan let out an honest laugh. Master Qualturus brightened. “Both. Anakin is a challenge. He always has been, testing my limits as well as his own.” He answered, feeling something inside himself unlock. Only a small part of himself took that thought to conclusion, meandering along the line of all the limits Anakin tested without his meaning to. The way he pushed him to the brink by simply existing. How long had it been that way? 

“As all Padawans ought. We are richer beings for all the ways we help each other grow.” Zaann said thoughtfully.

Obi-wan nodded in agreeance. “And how you put it, makes it seem so much more delightful than it truly is.” He said with a tired smile. 

“You got me there, Kenobi.” Zaann smiled, taking a sip of his drink. “So, how do we compare to Coruscant? Are you regretting the job already?” He said with a raised brow, poking his elbow into Obi-wan’s ribs in jest. 

“No, no regrets. It’s truly nice here. Much more peaceful than Coruscant could ever be.” Obi-wan said honestly. 

But then as if to prove his words false, a bolt of dampened rage flashed across from Anakin-- one that might have been perceived by others but that was loudly felt by Obi-wan from across their bond. His gaze shot across the dining hall just a moment before Anakin slammed his fist against the table, causing the mumbling drone of conversation amongst the other occupants of the dining hall to draw into silence. 

Jerot said a few quiet words as he put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder in what appeared to be an attempt to calm him down, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Obi-wan could sense the simmering rage as Anakin shrugged away from the well meaning contact and got up to leave. Obi-wan looked on at his Padawan with distress as the boy made a beeline for the exit. 

“And there you go again, worrying after that boy.” Zaann remarked. “Both excessively and perhaps justly, it would seem.” Obi-wan let out a defeated sigh. 

In the next moment Jerot stood up, moving in pursuit of the disgruntled Padawan. “Well I ought to go attend to the situation. I’ll see you in the morning, Master Qualturus.” Obi-wan said with a nod as he moved up from his seat, making to intercept Jerot’s path. 

“8am sharp in the dojo is when your first class begins, don’t be late Master Kenobi!” Zaann called after him as he departed. Obi-wan didn’t turn and acknowledge the statement, but regarded it with dull aggravation. Teaching the basic saber forms to a class of younglings would be the least of his problems. 

Just before Jerot made his way past the doors of the dining hall, Obi-wan caught up with him. “Padawan Tokani,” he said in a stern yet gentle tone.

Jerot turned with wide eyes, a corona surprise cresting his aura. Obi-wan stifled a smile at the reaction, remembering when he had also been a Padawan, so easily intimidated, who took others entirely too seriously the majority of the time. “Master Kenobi,” he started, looking as if he had gotten himself into trouble. “I’m sorry about what happened-”

“How Anakin chooses to behave is not your responsibility.” Obi-wan stated simply with an air of confusion towards the statement. He found it odd that a Padawan of Master Qualturus would internalize the actions of others. Nothing about the man would lead one to believe he would ever suggest such lines of reasoning. 

“I know,” Jerot recanted defensively, correcting his faulty train of thought. His eyes bore the burden of guilt beneath furrowed brows. The boy looked like he might have had something more to say, but remained silent. A wave of understanding dawned on Obi-wan, stirring curiosity beneath it. 

“Go back and finish your supper. I’ll deal with my Padawan.” He said with interested eyes. There was something more to the situation that led to matters that were no doubt prohibited by the rules of the Jedi order. It wasn’t uncommon for Padawans covertly break such rules. Obi-wan knew for himself that had been the case. He willfully ignored the part of his mind that reminded him just how badly he still fell short in his present state. 

“Alright,” the boy said carefully, with cautious eyes. “Can you tell Anakin I’m sorry?” 

“Whatever it is you think you have to be sorry for, I think you’ll get the chance to explain yourself to him tomorrow.” Obi-wan said with a reassuring smile. “Good night, Padawan Tokani.” 

“You as well, Master Kenobi,” the Padawan said with a respectful bow of his head before he turned and sauntered back towards his small group of friends. 

With a raised brow, Obi-wan turned and walked with patient steps towards their shared quarters. Anakin wasn’t the sort to make quick friends, but the way things had turned sour were not indicative of his usual aversion to others his age. Between that and Jerot’s suspicious demeanor, Obi-wan’s curiosity was more than piqued. 

As he walked through the door to their small apartment, Obi-wan heard the tale end of sobbing from behind Anakin’s bedroom door as the boy forced himself into silence for fear his Master might hear him. The loud streams of sadness, hopelessness and despair still came through their bond unabated by any effort to dampen them. All cognitive and inquiring processes came to a halt as they wrapped themselves around Obi-wan’s heart, pulling tight until he couldn’t breathe. 

This feeling, the one of being overwhelmed, assaulted and exhausted by his Padawans emotions, had been a constant trial ever since he had awoken from their previous mission. It was why he had been so distant. He had felt Anakin’s raging emotions, the boy’s confused heart pulling towards him, though neither of them ever spoke of it. He didn’t want to do so much as to think about it. When he did, he felt his own heart stir in kind. 

It was more than a Masterly response. Certainly no Jedi Master would enjoy seeing their Padawan suffer, but it wasn’t just that. It was a deep ache that manifested inside his core that could only be soothed by tending to Anakin’s sorrows in a much more physical manner than would ever be appropriate between Master and Padawan. 

He wanted to push past the urges to kiss away his tears, to calm his sobbing with soft sweet touches and tender embraces. For the past week that effort had manifested in a strict, stern Jedi Master’s approach accompanied by distance any time Obi-wan didn’t think he could combat those urges. His urges were ones that had started as simple fleshly desires, and transformed into a much more consuming sort of thing. It dug roots into every piece of how he saw Anakin. He was afraid to let himself wander over the word in his mind that accurately described how his feelings had transformed. 

The more he tried to work past the vision where he had let himself do those unspeakable things, the more he sensed something beyond the physical attraction. It was so much more than lust or infatuation. He wondered if it had always been there, waiting to be noticed. It felt like a nightmare as the true scope of his feelings came into view. It derailed everything he was supposed to be. 

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He would continue on as he had, until his feelings changed back to what they had been, once upon a time. He would act like his love for Anakin didn’t transcend that of the typical Master Padawan bond. He would tell himself he didn’t love him. He would try to believe the lie. 

Obi-wan would try to rationalize how he couldn’t truly feel such a thing for Anakin. If he did, how could he violate him so willingly, even if only in a vision? The answer came to him in the sickness he felt when he thought of it. He wanted to go back and wrench himself from those decisions, the thought that it would be harmless, that Anakin wasn’t actually being hurt. How wrong, how terribly wrong he had been. 

He had known, hadn’t he? But he wasn’t thinking straight. Obi-wan tried to rationalize it every which way in his mind. He couldn’t. It was inexcusable, _especially_ if he claimed to love him. In the light of his supposed love, it made the act even worse somehow. As if it could ever be worse. It was a scar on his heart that he would forever see as making himself unworthy of even feeling such love for him. In so many ways, he didn’t deserve him. 

But Anakin needed him all the same. He needed him to be the Master Qui-gon would have wanted him to be. Gentle and kind, yet stern and accounting. Jinn had set an example that was difficult to live up to. And how miserably he was failing. Though Obi-wan couldn’t quit.

And the light of the force around him resonated encouragingly with his determination. He mustered the energy to push past the feelings of self doubt and shame. The force would take it from him freely, waiting with outstretched hands to pull the burden away. And he did, not that it washed his soul free of it’s damning stains, but it would help him be better. For Anakin, he had to be. 

This was the cycle of self defeating thoughts and overwhelming emotion that Obi-wan experienced over and over when Anakin was in pain. Here on Devaron, the process of releasing it became easier as the force seemed more willing to lighten his conscience, even if only for fleeing moments. 

If it weren’t for such momentary relief from the weight of his ever brewing guilt, Obi-wan wouldn’t have been able to muster the courage to knock lightly on the door to his quarters. He wouldn’t have been able to pull the door open and walk inside to Anakin’s aid. But he did, because the force was with him. 

Anakin sat on the sleeper, a pillow clutched in his hands, pulled tight against his chest. The gray pillowcase was wet, nearly soaked, as were his swollen tear stained eyes. His lips compressed and quivered against another sob that he resisted, pulling an unsteady breath into his lungs. 

He didn’t dare look at his Master who lingered in the doorway, ever aloof. Obi-wan’s heart wanted to hold him, but his self condemnation and hatred wouldn’t allow it. The string of Anakin’s sorrow pulled even tighter in his chest, causing a pain to sear behind Obi-wan’s ribs. 

He walked over to sit at the foot of Anakin’s sleeper. It was appropriate enough, he thought, as he was determined to stay within his Masterly boundaries. _Words_ , Obi-wan thought. Certainly there were words he was supposed to say, but he couldn’t think of the right ones. The ways he wanted to communicate his support to Anakin were not ones he would allow himself to use. Instead he sat silently, a worried crease in his brow as he racked his mind for the right words to say to make Anakin feel better. 

“I don’t belong here,” Anakin croaked into the pillow, a few extra strings of tears falling down his teary flushed face. 

“Of course you do.” Obi-wan countered reflexively, immediately grimacing at his generalizing, invalidating statement. 

“I _don’t!_ ” Anakin cried out. 

_You do. You belong here, with me,_ Obi-wan thought, the words just barely held back by his pursed lips. He struggled to put his thinking in line. Interestingly, he found the light didn’t disagree with the thought, even if he couldn’t voice it. 

“You’re having a difficult time adjusting to your new peers?” Obi-wan asked. 

Another bloom of anger and shame took form in Anakin’s aura, sweeping across their bond as his face twisted against more tears. Obi-wan could feel the gaping wound in his Padawan’s chest, tearing at the boy’s heart. A slight rush of panic slicked the palms of his hands as he felt the need to tend to the wound with lips and tongue against Anakin’s chest, to taste the sorrow that plagued him and cure it with equal amounts of passion and wanting. Instead he sat looking on at the one he was supposed to care for, feeling helplessly lost.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” Obi-wan asked mildly, earning a vicious glance from Anakin. 

Obi-wan held his angry stare with one of gentle understanding. The lock of eyes eroded Anakin’s anger down to the hurt that lie beneath. Then something else beneath that, came to present itself in Anakin’s gaze. It held a soft yielding quality that made Obi-wan so much more desperate to hold him in his arms. 

As if by the use of force, Anakin seemed to bewitch his Master with his powerfully needy stare. Entranced, Obi-wan didn’t let his jewel blue eyes out of sight as he crawled to sit beside him, reclining against the headboard. He opened his arms, which Anakin promptly collapsed within, curling up against Obi-wan’s side. 

Anakin’s body shuddered as silent sobs racked his shoulders. Obi-wan held him tighter. Then the boy began to unravel. 

Safe in his Master’s embrace Anakin began to let out all the heart wrenching sobs that his body had worked so hard to contain within. He discarded the soggy pillow and wrapped his arms tightly around his Master’s torso, his hands gripping desperately into his clothes. Obi-wan’s heart was strangled by Anakin’s anger, the depth of his grief, the weight of his sorrow. 

He took Anakin’s face gently between his warm, weathered palms. He saw the vulnerability, the anguish in his bloodshot eyes. Obi-wan’s heart ached to kiss him. For a moment he thought he could feel the light resonating with his desperation. 

Caving, Obi-wan brought Anakin’s face closer, feeling his Padawan’s labored breath on his lips. With only a moment’s hesitation Obi-wan pressed his wanting lips against Anakin’s tear slicked cheek, giving the most chaste kiss he was capable of. Then he pressed another kiss to the wrinkles in Anakin’s brow. He could feel Anakin’s forehead smooth under his lips as he let his body slack into his Master’s embrace. 

Pulling his lips away Obi-wan hugged Anakin tightly to his chest, resting his chin delicately atop his short cropped hair that tickled and poked him through his beard. 

“It’s going to get better.” Obi-wan said, pursing his lips, tasting the salty tang of Anakin’s tears on his tongue. “I promise.”


	13. Special

After a night of restful sleep, Obi-wan waited in the dojo for his students to trickle in before the first class began. The schedule he had been given was slammed with back to back classes all day, and arguably not enough time to even properly eat breakfast or dinner before he was supposed to go to bed and start the cycle again.

And Anakin, just like his Master, had a heaping pile of work as well between classes and activities. The two of them had nearly missed each other that first morning before they went their separate ways. In passing Obi-wan had suggested they go down to the dining hall together for some breakfast, but Anakin was intent on avoiding any extra social interactions with the temple natives. He insisted he needed to take a walk to clear his mind instead. 

“Honestly Master, I’m not hungry. Really.” Anakin said avoidantly, unwilling to sustain eye contact for more than a few sheepishly fleeting glimpses. Obi-wan was certain that was the first time he had ever heard Anakin use those words in that particular order. It was obvious there was something bothering him about the incident from the night prior that crying into his shoulder hadn’t been able to fix. 

It hurt Obi-wan to see him suffer, but Anakin needed to learn how to handle his own personal affairs. Getting over involved wouldn’t do him any favors. He tried to ignore the memory of holding Anakin in his arms, of the tender kiss he planted on his tear stained cheek. He wanted so badly to give into those desires again, to erase all the pain and heartache that resonated inside Anakin. But he couldn’t. 

Obi-wan knew those wants were borne from his own heart, and that it wasn’t what would be truly best for Anakin. Besides, his were cravings that would never be relinquished by giving in, that much was clear. Just because his own emotions were crossed didn’t mean it was right to push that onto Anakin. He loved him, so he felt determined to mind the line between his desires, and what was best for his Padawan. He couldn’t allow himself to get carried away. 

“If you ever want to talk about anything, I want you to know I’m always ready to listen.” Obi-wan said, reiterating a well trodden statement he had given time and time again. Often times it had been met with aggravation and sometimes even outright anger. Now Obi-wan felt traces of suppressed anguish leach across their bond. It made his heart ache, but there was nothing more he could do or offer to him. And that fact, only made him feel even worse. 

With his gaze cast low and his face twisted down into a frown, Anakin quickly hustled from the apartment and out into the halls where he would avoid any sentient contact for as long as possible. Obi-wan could only hope Anakin would attend his classes and activities as he was supposed to. 

In spite of his duties Obi-wan continued to ruminate, worrying about Anakin right up to the start of class. The students were all on time, not even one straggler among them. At least one thing was going well enough. Obi-wan chose to put hope in Anakin’s perseverance. He had gotten this far, hadn’t he? 

_I’m just overly concerned,_ Obi-wan told himself. It was a symptom of the state of his feelings for him. He had to keep it in check, to clear his mind and focus on the moment. And that was in the dojo, surrounded by younglings who patiently awaited his instruction with wide and eager eyes. 

He had to tend to the task at hand. Everything else could come after. “Good morning,” Obi-wan addressed the group of young learners that sat in concentric half-circles from where he stood. “Each of you find a remote, blind and saber, and we’ll begin today’s lesson.” 

…….

Anakin rushed through the halls towards the temple exit. He had thought to sneak out of the temple during breakfast, and had nearly gotten away with it. To his dismay, Jerot had found him only a few meters away from making a successful escape. 

“Anakin!” Jerot shouted from down the hall, his voice echoing off the stone walls and granite floor. Anakin’s shoulders cringed as he turned gingerly to face him. “Where are you going?” Jerot said as he sprinted over to meet him. 

Anakin chose to ignore the question. “What do you want?” He said sullenly. 

“I wanted to apologize for last night,” Jerot started, his face conveying genuine regret.

“Why should you be sorry?” Anakin asked with a sour edge to his voice. Beneath his wrinkled brow his eyes were still puffy from the night before, when his Master’s arms seemed to be the only cure to his heartache, even if it had been a mere fleeting moment of relief from his stormy emotions. Somehow the embrace, the tender unadulterated kisses Obi-wan had given him, seemed to make the tempest of longing and confusion so much worse in their wake, making everything else feel impossibly heavy. 

“Clarissa was totally insensitive and out of line. Jedi are meant to be better and more conscious-” 

“Just forget about it.” Anakin blurted, cutting him off. He didn’t want to hear the rest of those words that would inevitably make him feel even more terrible than he already did. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“But it does matter. She hurt your feelings, and it was uncalled for.” Jerot insisted. “I want to make it up to you.” 

“Please, don’t bother.” Anakin ground out. 

“You should give her another chance. You’ll see that she’s not so terrible. Slick makes everyone a little rough around the edges.” Jerot implored. 

Anakin scoffed. “You don’t get it. Anyone who uses drugs knowing their production depends on slave labor is terrible, sober or not.” He shot back vehemently. 

“But It’s not like that-” 

“But it is. It’s simple. People are born into slavery. They live and die, never knowing any freedom. It’s evil. But it’s alright as long as you and your friends can get high. Then it doesn’t matter.” Anakin continued, gaining momentum. 

“That’s not what I mean-”

“Isn’t it? You don’t care. One moment you’re saying a Jedi should be more sensitive to things like slavery. In the very next breath you’re trying to make excuses for your friends.” Anakin declared, not noticing the escalating volume of his voice. 

“I- I’m sorry. You’re right.” Jerot rescinded. 

But he would never understand, not like Anakin did. And they never would. “None of you will ever know what it’s like to be someone’s property.” Anakin said low, nearly under his breath. 

Jerot studied him, a light of understanding in his eyes. “But you do know.” 

“You don’t know a thing about me.” Anakin spat back defensively. He didn’t want pity. It was the last thing he ever wanted. 

“I don’t. And I’m starting to get the feeling you don’t ever let anyone get to know you.” Jerot added in a kind voice. Despite the gentleness to his words, they stung all the same. 

“What’s it to you?” Anakin asked, not wanting an answer. 

“I guess I just hoped we could be friends.” Jerot replied with sad eyes.

Anakin’s face twisted with confusion. Before he could even think of something to say, Jerot spoke again. “You know, not everyone is as terrible as you make them out to be. If you open yourself up long enough, you might find that out yourself one day.” 

Anakin’s throat swelled with too much that his heart wanted to say, even more that he would never allow himself to speak. He cursed himself for letting things get to him so easily, but somehow he couldn’t help it. He was weak, and even more so in the absence of his Master’s touch. It stirred a heavy confusion and heartache that made anything else impossible to handle. 

In the absence of any retort, he felt thankful for the interruption as an elder Nautolan Jedi Master came stalking towards the two of them purposefully with a scowl that pressed wrinkles into her jade green skin. 

“Padawan Tokani,” she called out, “and Skywalker?” Both Anakin and Jerot turned to meet the elder Jedi that strode towards them. “What are you doing out in the halls so close to the start of class?” She asked accusingly. 

“I was just showing Anakin around a bit. It seems we lost track of time.” Jerot answered back unflinchingly. Anakin plastered a fake smile on his face as the Nautolan Master eyed them suspiciously. 

“Hmmm.” She said, pausing pensively. “Well off then, the two of you!” She barked. “I don’t want to hear about you being absent from your morning lessons.” The Nautolan Master commanded strictly. 

“Yes Master,” Anakin and Jerot murmured in unison as they made their way back towards the main hall where the classrooms were. Anakin grumbled.

If it wasn’t for Jerot he would have been able to get away and clear his mind. Instead he would be forced to sit and endure temple classes surrounded by a bunch of Padawans who were a joke to the title. Anakin couldn’t wrap his head around the loose culture among the learners in the temple. 

While Anakin somewhat envied their seclusion and ignorance, he equally resented it. He tried to imagine what his life might have been like if he too, had the luxury of being so willfully nescient of the galaxys darker aspects like slavery. He couldn’t truly imagine it at all. Even if he could have, he wasn’t sure he would have wanted it. Not even if the consequences of being so violently aware of such things left scars on his psyche that he knew would never fade. 

Anakin pondered over it while he and Jerot ventured into class only a few moments late. Their tardiness earned them a stern glance from the lead Master, instead of the small lecture they might have received had they been a moment later. Anakin grimaced as he settled into the only remaining empty table at the front of the class. A deep frown formed on his lips as Jerot was forced to settle down beside him. 

They quickly fell in place as the lecture began. It was long and boring, stoking Anakins dull anger to the point of annoyance. It didn’t help that his mind kept on brushing the edges of the memory of the gentle kisses Obi-wan had given him, that starkly contrasted the way his Master had wrestled him to the ground of his quarters. And all of it was a mere shadow to how he had been taken on Kraysiss Two, so much so that the event almost seemed unreal. 

But he knew it wasn’t just a Sith inspired phantom of his imagination. It existed in his torn emotions, his aching heart. In his fearful lust for violence and thirst for answers to the questions that scraped painfully against the inside of his skull. The embrace, the gentleness his Master had shown him seemed to be a temporary fix that made him feel so much worse in their absence. It was nearly cruel.

Anakin thought things would get better once they arrived on Devaron. He felt the light of the place loudly, and it did soften the edges of his trauma, but only to a point. It seemed to inevitably make him more raw and vulnerable to his darkest truths. The light might shine on the roots of his pain, but it was still up to him to decipher what that was. And the light wasn’t going to patiently wait for him to figure it out. 

By the time the lecture had ended and they started down the hall for combat training, Anakin was grateful. At least there would be some physical release to all the pent up things stewing inside of him. 

He was also glad that Jerot no longer tried to talk to him, but was vaguely annoyed by his presence at his side as they ventured into the dojo. As the group of Padawans began to take positions on the floor mats while they awaited instruction, Jerot sat beside Anakin in spite of his irritability. If anything, his mood seemed to only make him hover more closely, like a spectator awaiting imminent disaster. 

And disaster didn’t seem to be far off. Anakin could sense it when the lead Master directed him to demonstrate a sparring technique to the class. The chosen opponent was Clarrisa- the ill mannered Padawan he had met yesterday who had laughed indignantly at him for mentioning the drug trade’s reliance on slavery. The dismissive reaction had shocked him deeply, shaking his old wounds to sting anew. 

In his red haze, Anakin couldn’t hear the string of introductory words as Clarissa took stance opposite him, nor did he care to try and listen. He looked across at her, reaching for his saber as she reached for hers. In the moment they stood alone, a world apart from everyone else. And that world darkened as Anakin studied her expression which was ever placid. Perhaps she was too hung over from whatever substance she had taken the night before. Regardless, her monotone expression ignited the anger in Anakin’s chest to burn brighter than before. 

She was the reminder that he didn’t belong. He never had, and he didn’t now. Master Windu had never passed an opportunity to make him feel like an outcast, or remind him how he had never agreed with his training to start. Anakin belonged under the harsh suns of Tatooine, toiling away to spend his evenings with his mother. His mother who he would die to protect. Never would he let anyone hurt her ever again. 

And it would be better that way. Because there, no one would question his right to exist. At the very least he would serve an uncontested purpose. He would have never met Obi-wan. He would never have been so desperately torn about his own feelings. Nothing on Tatooine had ever been so complicated. Not like it was now.

Now, Anakin found his life as an unending labyrinth of cause and effect, taking him deeper and deeper to its heart which would be his uncertain fate. All he knew how to do was talk the path, taking it around the bend, pausing at a split in the road, debating on which direction he might go. But it seemed in all the most critical moments, there were no choices to be made. No decision to go right, or left. The only choice was to keep going, keep walking the path. 

Just like he had when his Mother had been attacked, and the same for when his Master had taken him. What alternative had there been? When Master Jinn came for him and told him he would become a Jedi, he had been helpless to his fate all the same. It seemed all of the best and worst things were a matter of destiny, not choice. 

But here now, as he looked Clarissa in her dead, dull eyes, his chest was full of more things than he could ever attribute to her alone. She was nothing but a passive bystander, a trigger to the tempest of conflict and self loathing that was the essence of his core. It was the product of the conflicting dualities that swirled inside him that he couldn’t seem to make sense of. All of it was too heavy, more than he knew how to contain within himself. And worst of all, he had no one he could justly blame. 

Clarissa ignited her saber, a jewel green blade jutting out from the gold and wooden hilt. Anakin keyed his on in kind, taking his usual stance, waiting for her to make the first move. 

No, he had no one he could blame, but Clarissa was here. She was ignorant and weak, everything a Jedi shouldn’t be. He could blame her for those things. The anger that roared behind his ribs wanted to lash out at her. He wanted to have a reason to feel all of the pain. She could be the reason. In the moment, she was. And with it, serenity descended on him. 

It wasn’t that his emotions were gone, they were still very much a part of him. But he was at peace in the moment, anticipating the swing of her blade. 

When she swung at him his body moved to dodge with ease as he met her blade with his own. The humming blade in his hand trembled violently as it struck, but he held it as an effortless extension of his own flesh. One swift parry led into the next, all accompanied by footwork that gracefully took form without a single thought. 

With each strike and clash of their sabers the pace of their duel intensified. As their combat heightened, Anakin found his anger manifesting more and more. Not in blatant rage, but in severe, deadly focus. It drove him and calmed him. The deeper he found himself within it, the more helpless he found himself to its whims. 

It took him to a place where he could no longer think critically about the things he was feeling. There were no more thoughts filling his mind. Not about what Clarissa had said to him the night before, not the scars of his childhood, not Obi-wan. None of it took space in his mind as he worked against his opponent, but he could feel the weight of it inside of him.

He felt the heartache from all the ways he had been wronged, hurt, used. All of the confusion and longing. The reality that nothing would ever change, that none of it could be taken back. It all transformed into the seething anger that honed his focus, that became violence as he pressed himself harder against Clarissa, causing a small sheen of sweat to breakout on her forehead. 

Anakin couldn’t hear the class murmur in the background. He only heard his own drumming heartbeat amidst the sizzle and crashing of dueling sabers. As his anger grew black, his attack turned ferocious. Clarissa didn’t have the skill to keep up with him. Anakin’s prowess over her sent a rush of excitement pulsing through his veins. 

A sweep of his leg sent Clarissa tumbling backwards as her lightsaber crashed to the floor. Anakin brought his bright humming blade against her neck, just close enough for the heat of his saber to sear the flesh under her chin. 

Then with a loud shout from the lead Master, Anakin was pulled from his world, back into the dojo. 

“Enough!” The Master cried out, forcibly disengaging Anakin’s saber and pulling it into his hand. 

The rage that had consumed him coiled back, leaving Anakin alone with his horrid shame towards his actions. All had been on display for his peers to see, and he had no excuse. For a moment, he wasn’t even sure what had just happened. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I got carried away,” Anakin said, uncomfortably aware of the too many sets of eyes burning into his skin as his face turned bright red. He offered a hand to Clarissa to help her up, but she refused. 

“Like hell you didn’t!” Clarissa cried out as she climbed back up to her feet, a hand cupped over the saber burn on her neck. “Just get away from me!” 

“I’m sorry,” Anakin repeated, shaking his head as he cursed himself for his lack of restraint. What would Obi-wan say when he found out? His stomach tied in knots as he thought about it. 

“Skywalker, report to Master Qualturus’s office at once!” The lead master barked out. Anakin didn’t look up to meet his eyes. He didn’t need to, he could hear the condemnation and disappointment in his voice. 

Anakin obediently and silently turned towards the exit, only catching Jarot’s face for a moment before he left the dojo. He felt slightly confused for seeing a look of intrigue rather than disgust or anger. Though he had little time to give it much thought before he found himself at Zaann’s office. 

Giving a simple knock, Anakin waited for permission to enter. He could hear Qualturus on his comlink speaking with the teacher who was giving a brief and thorough report of Anakin’s actions. Zaann’s responses were quiet, conscious of an audience. 

After a moment of silence, Qualturus called out. “Come in,” he said, his voice ever jolly and equally grating. Anakin gritted his teeth as he walked through the door, only sitting once he was granted permission. 

“Well well. Your first day in class, and already you’re causing quite a racket.” Zaann noted with an interested glint to his violet eyes. Anakin chose to remain silent, deciding it was the best course of action unless directly ordered otherwise. 

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Qualturus probed in a curious tone, one that overshadowed any anger or disappointment if there was any at all. 

“I got carried away. It was wrong, and I’m sorry.” Anakin responded curtly, his hands gripping the arms of the chair irritably. 

“You might have received special treatment in Coruscant, after all, the order has been making nothing but exceptions for you since day one. But here, you’re just another Padawan like everyone else. You’re not special, Anakin.” Zaann said in soft measured words that were aimed to sting. 

“I never said I was.” Anakin shot back, glaring at Qualturus with disdain. “And I’ve never been treated special. If anything, it’s been the opposite.” 

“No? Not special?” Qualturus asked with barely veiled disgust. 

“No.” Anakin insisted, holding himself back from shouting. This must have been a test, he reasoned. Zaann must have been trying to push his buttons, to find his breaking point. Anakin didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

Zaann smiled darkly. “What was it that Master Jinn said about you? Some nonsense about the prophecy of the chosen one. He claimed you were it. It was the only reason you were taken in by the order. And you don’t think you’ve received special treatment?” Zaann asked again, cocking his head to the side. 

Anakin clenched his jaw, remaining silent as his rage began to grow again. He took a few deep breaths like Obi-wan had taught him to do, to regain control over himself. It was hard to know whether or not it was working, since Zann just kept on. 

“Most Masters choose their Padawan themselves. But because of who you are, your Master was forced to take you on. You were guaranteed a spot in the order, where everyone else has to earn it by merit. But no, you’re not special.” Qualturus spoke softly as his words grew harsher. 

And they were effective. Anakin felt the words strike at an old wound, tering it open fresh. With every ounce of strength he focused hard to suppress tears from welling in his eyes. It was nearly impossible not to hear his own self damning thoughts echoing inside himself, reminding him that Obi-wan never wanted him at all, never chose him. Qui-gon had cursed him with his training. Obi-wan, ever loyal, would never go against his Master’s dying wishes. 

“Oh, have I struck a nerve?” Zann asked with an air of amusement. 

Anakin clenched his fists and swallowed hard, feeling his heart pound in his chest. “If you think you’re so tough, prove it.” Zaann said, rising up out of his chair and walking around, blocking the exit as he took his saber in hand. 

“Get up.” Qualturus ordered. Reluctantly, Anakin obeyed. His hands were damp with sweat, his body trembled with adrenaline. He didn’t understand what was happening. Never had any Jedi Master spoken to him this way, or any other Padawan. Sure, not all Jedi had perfect tempers, but Anakin was positive there had to be some other reason to the man’s verbal assault, other than for the sake of being hurtful. 

Anakin turned to face Zann who stood at the ready. Anakin flinched as the Jedi Master keyed on his sapphire blade and coiled into an offensive stance. Quickly he slashed out at Anakin, forcing him to dodge lest his arm be sheared off at his shoulder. A flash of panic jolted through him as Zaann laughed. 

“Where is your lightsaber? Defend yourself!” Zann cried out as he swung again, causing Anakin to dash backwards defensively. He didn’t have his lightsaber, the lead Master of the dojo had taken it. 

“You’re crazy!” Anakin shouted through taut vocal chords. In response Zaann sent a sweeping slash at his neck that grazed his skin. The tip of his blade landed less than an inch away from his artery. Less than an inch away from death. 

“You don’t have your lightsaber because you are unworthy of being a Jedi!” Zann declared as Anakin retreated further. 

Qualturus moved to close in on him, but was stopped as Anakin pulled a chair and hurled it across the room. It only took a moment for the Jedi master to deflect it back at him powerfully enough that Anakin couldn't avoid its path. The bulky wooden chair crashed into him, throwing him to the ground. With the wind knocked out of him, Anakin struggled to pull himself up. Before he could, Master Qualturus grabbed a fist of his shirt and slammed him against the wall, a sadistic sneer spread across his lips. 

“What a pitiful failure. For all the work Kenobi has put into you, it’s all been such a waste.” Zann said in a growl, pressing the unlit end of his saber hard against the flesh of Anakin’s neck. 

Anakin stared into the man’s eyes, feeling a bolt of terror jolt through him as he saw something wild and feral there, not unlike the Sith back on Kraysiss Two. “Please, don’t,” Anakin begged breathlessly with wide terrified eyes, no longer able to keep the tears at bay that streamed down his face. 

With a look of broken concentration, Zaann’s eyes flitted towards the door of his office, then back at Anakin before he broke out into roaring laughter. Qualturus’s breath was hot and damp on Anakin’s face as he pulled in shaky shallow breaths. FInally, Qualturus released him from his grip. Anakin thought he might have fallen to the floor, but thankfully his legs decided to keep him upright. 

“Get out of my office. You’re suspended for the rest of the day. And if I ever hear of you acting out against one of your peers, or any other Jedi for that matter, you’ll wish you were dead.” Zann said in his hallmark tone. Anakin shuddered, not bothering to fix his tunic before he ran out of Qualturus’s office. 

Anakin was so shaken and distracted, he nearly plowed over Jerot in his panicked haste. 

“Anakin,” Jerot said, catching him by the arm as Anakin spun past. 

Anakin hastily wiped the rogue tears from his face as he jostled out of Jerot’s grip. “What do you want?” Anakin said shakily, still catching his breath. 

“What happened? Are you alright?” Jerot asked. Without a word to answer with, Anakin turned and started towards the apartment wing. He was still shaken and was in no mood for conversation. 

“Okay, okay don’t tell me. Wait up, I have something else I wanted to ask you.” Jerot called after him. 

Anakin turned back to face him angrily. “What is it?” 

Jerot’s face lit up with a smile. “I have something I want to show you tonight.” A glint of excitement in his eyes stole Anakin’s curiosity, but he was still in no mood to talk. 

“What?” Anakin asked in a lighter yet still irritable tone. 

Jerot looked around then came in closer, lowering his voice. “Meet me outside the temple doors after dark and i’ll show you.” Jerot answered, his grin widening. 

“I’m pretty sure once my Master finds out what I did, I’ll be grounded for the rest of the week, if not longer.” Anakin answered cautiously, unsure if it was wise to take Jerot up on his offer. 

Jerot laughed before he spoke low again, mindful of listening ears. “And what does that have to do with it? Meet me outside the temple doors after dark. I’ll be waiting.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you’ll be sorry if you don’t. Make sure to wear civilian clothes. We don’t want to get noticed as Jedi.” Jerot answered, turning back down the hall towards the classrooms. 

“I’ll see you then?” Jerot asked with a wide smile on his face. 

“See you then,” Anakin answered back hesitantly, turning towards the apartment wing. “I guess.”


	14. Gateway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again everyone!
> 
> Thank you for waiting so patiently for this next chapter to drop. It has been thought up and written, rewritten and pieced together so many different ways, it's been driving me crazy! Not to mention all this has been during summer classes, which are currently still kicking my butt...
> 
> Nonetheless, I'm glad to finally have a finished product to share with you guys. Thank you for your kind and encouraging comments. Your continued interest in this story really means a lot to me and I appreciate you all! 
> 
> Blu3

By the end of his first class Obi-wan had successfully immersed himself in his work to the point where he no longer felt himself obsessively pulling back to thoughts of Anakin and all the worries that followed. He felt surprised that he actually enjoyed teaching. He had seemingly endless patience to give to his students, who all seemed to be oddly well behaved for their ages. It was a welcome change to Anakin's rebel spirit that often had tested the bonds between them over the course of their relationship. 

Even more trying was the fact that patience had never been an innate quality for Obi-wan, though he had fostered it over time with the diligence that was expected of a Jedi Master. It was a necessity with Anakin in his care. Though for all of his personal growth in the area, he had never given a moments notice for how much it had improved over time. 

A small smile formed on his lips as he let himself feel a small rise of pride bloom in his chest. He wouldn’t allow himself to become overinflated, but some recognition was warranted. He could only imagine what his late Master would have said if he could have seen it with his own eyes. However, the moment was short lived. Only a few seconds later his awareness was forcibly pulled back to Anakin. 

There was something imminent lingering darkly, pulling at him from across their bond. A vague sense of distressed pulsed through him with ambiguity that could only be matched by the sheer volume of emotion that was being pushed onto him. It sent a dull ache tearing through his chest, and a surge of adrenaline that coursed uncomfortably through his veins. 

Obi-wan let out an unsteady sigh of dread. He _wanted_ to believe that trouble hadn’t found Anakin again, or that Anakin hadn't sought it out as he so often seemed to do. Though, Obi-wan knew better than to let himself get swept up by that unlikely fantasy. Regardless of what the truth of it was, there would be nothing he could do about it for the moment. 

Obi-wan pried his mind from their bond to tend to his class. He couldn’t let himself get overwhelmed by Anakin’s fickle emotions- neither of them would be made better for it. His own urge to rush to the boy’s side and fix all of his problems were irrelevant. His wants were secondary and essentially, they didn’t matter. That’s what it meant to be a Master. 

Perhaps even worse, his wants seemed to be directly contrary to what was best for Anakin, and he didn’t think they were going to fade any time soon. He would need to learn how to live with it, like walking with a pebble in the sole of his boot. Eventually he would adapt, learn how to tune it out. With time it might get easier but it wasn’t going away. 

And he didn’t want it to go away. He didn’t want to feel any differently. He loved him, and to take that love away would be like stealing the oxygen from his lungs. Even if it would remain silent and hidden until the end of time, he didn’t think he could live without it. He didn’t think he could live without Anakin. It went against all common sense and logic, and most certainly the Jedi Code. 

He didn’t care about any of that, either. The realization shocked him to his core. Still, he pushed it out of mind, wrenching his focus to the moment. He willed those uncomfortable realizations out of his awareness, just below the surface. He needed to be available for his students, not lost in his own personal dilemmas. 

Another student, another question. Obi-wan utilized every scrap of skill he possessed to keep himself focused. With the constant loud feed of dark emotions that shouted at him from across their bond, mixed with his own feelings, it was quite a task. Though eventually the torrent subsided. Obi-wan gave a heaving sigh of relief as he was able to lower his mental shields back down to their normal resting state. 

The moment of distress had only lasted a short while, but it had been exhausting enough all the same. But it was over now, and he should have been able to focus. Somehow that became impossible altogether. Because instead of feeling at peace in the absence of Anakin’s imposed emotions, Obi-wan was left alone with his own anxious foreboding. He couldn’t shake the feeling in his gut that something had gone terribly awry. It gnawed at him relentlessly until he felt sick. 

It was unfair to his students, to himself, even to Anakin to let himself get so wrapped up in such a triviality, so he told himself. It didn’t feel true at all, no matter how his mind tried to reason with the irrational nature of his emotions. 

It didn’t help that not even five minutes later, a wave of anguish cascaded over him through their bond. This time was even greater than the last in every sense. So many shades of suffering, anger, confusion all swirled together in a crimson haze. Then like ice in his veins, he felt the shock of terror strike through him. His palms slicked with sweat as his stomach dropped.

Obi-wan’s gaze fell to the door, feeling the burning need to find Anakin that very instant. Something was wrong- _terribly_ wrong. Even his cold calculating logic began to agree with his fervid emotions, and that seemed to scare him the most- validating what seemed to be wild outlandish fears. 

His feet itched to bolt for the door as his mind filled with horrendous images. Sith beasts and sickly beings snarled at him from behind his eyes, taunting him, putting hands on his beloved. What made it all so much worse was the palpable darkness that surrounded Anakin. He could feel the shadow of it sinking gnarled roots deep into his core, even from such a distance. 

And then it was gone again as if nothing had ever been amiss. Obi-wan wanted to feel relieved, but had much difficulty feeling anything but a deeper worry that penetrated his mind at every level. He needed to talk to Anakin and find out what was going on. He couldn’t shake the memory of suffering and terror that had flooded his senses only moments before. It seared into his mind like a scar, tearing at his heart, playing on his own fears. 

Obi-wan breathed out a silent curse. If only he didn’t have five more classes to teach before he would get a chance to see if Anakin was alright. It seemed like an impossibly long amount of time to endure such hellish uncertainty. 

Though as time passed, he began to feel slightly more at ease. His fears had never fully left him of course, but their urgency began to fade. He began to wonder again just how skewed his perception had become in light of his feelings. Surely in the Jedi Temple there would be no place for monsters, not the kind that he feared. There had to have been some sort of misunderstanding. Perhaps Anakin was still working through the trauma of their last mission. Whatever it was, he was going to need his Master at his fullest capacity. That meant putting his feelings aside and trying to be the best Master he knew how to be. 

Right now, that meant accepting the high probability that his perceptions were more than likely skewed and overly amplified. Obi-wan forced himself to accept that as truth for the time being, it was the only way he could remain sane. 

And it worked. He was able to push it out of his awareness and focus on the students who needed him. By the end of the day Obi-wan nearly began to feel at ease. But all gains were lost when Zaann walked in as the last of his students trailed out. He could sense trouble like a storm on the horizon. It had always been that way with Anakin, but the steaks never seemed higher, and his Padawan never so fragile. 

An anxious pit formed in Obi-wan’s stomach that he willfully ignored as he glanced over to Master Qualturus who strode in sure footed, hubris abounding. Zaann became more cumbersome to endure with each meeting, and this encounter was no exception. Obi-wan felt his patience waning out of existence as he wanted nothing more than to leave and tend to his Padawan. 

Obi-wan suppressed an aggravated sigh as he finished stowing away the last of the practice sabers, blinds and remotes into the storage closet. “How can I be of service, Master Qualturus?”

“Do I need a reason to come and see how your first day of teaching went?” Zaann said with empty cheer. Obi-wan allayed the quippish sarcastic remark he might have given to someone who knew him better. Then again, someone who knew him better wouldn’t have subjected him to such patronizing conversation to begin with. 

Still, he didn’t want to be rude. Obi-wan took a brief moment to think up some response to dismiss himself without being impolite as he turned to face the man. Before he could conjure a single thought, Obi-wan’s eyes were immediately and inexplicably pulled to a saber holstered to the back of the man’s belt. The make of the weapon was unmistakably that of Anakin’s saber. 

Fearful anger surged through his veins like acid as his palms dampened, his jaw tightening reflexively. Such a visceral reaction to the sight brought on a slight curiosity, but only in passing. His focus became stone along with his demeanor towards the man in front of him as all inclination to be cordal ceased to exist instantaneously. 

“Why do you have Anakin’s lightsaber?” Obi-wan demanded.

“So observant.” Zann chuckled with a single raised brow, almost seeming surprised as he pulled Anakin’s saber into his hands thoughtfully. 

Obi-wan felt himself dangerously near the brink of snapping. He had no tolerance for being treated or spoken to like an imbecile. 

Obi-wan looked on at him, still waiting for an answer. “Actually, that’s exactly what I came here to discuss. I just hate to lead on with bad news.” Zaann said, dredging his words with false apology. 

“Bad news?” Obi-wan said back expectantly, his already grim mood souring at an exponential rate. 

“Yes. I’m afraid Anakin acted quite unacceptably in his combat class today. He hurt one of his classmates.” Zaann stated in a matter of fact tone.

Obi-wan could feel his shoulders stiffen in response to the man’s insufferable grating voice. “Hurt how?” Obi-wan asked sharply, his glare just as intolerant. 

Qualturus donned an expression of deep sorrow before he continued. Obi-wan was beginning to notice how the man changed emotions out like one might change clothes. It was a quality often utilized by corrupt, self serving politicians, and not often by Jedi Masters- at least not towards their own. “I’m afraid he nicked someone’s neck during a combat exercise. He put on quite a show of aggression before the actual incident.” Zaann said, his features pulling into a frown. 

Obi-wan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Nicked someone's neck?” He exclaimed incredulously. “Acted out, in combat class. Isn’t that the purpose of it?” He went on, near to indignation. 

“Now, Master Kenobi,” Zaann warned, changing out masks yet again. “Surely you can see the seriousness of the issue. Another student was harmed.” 

“I don’t contest that, Master Qualturus. I just don't see this as a reason to confiscate his lightsaber.” Obi-wan said in a brisk critique. “It seems like a gross overreaction to an incident that may have very well been by accident to start.” 

Zaann’s expression hardened, his lips pulling into a thin line of disapproval. “Yes. Well, this seems very characteristic of the special treatment Anakin is used to receiving on Coruscant. Here, I refuse to treat Anakin any different from any other Padawan in the temple.” Zaann said, smearing his words haughtily. 

“Special treatment?”

“Yes. It clearly hasn’t done him any favors.” Zaann took a pause, softening his expression. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this either,” he said, leaning in closer as if to keep what he was about to say from being overheard.

“Anakin was called into my office after the incident, and I’m afraid things turned rather violent.” Zaann said in a quiet voice. 

Obi-wan’s mind reeled, searching Zaann’s words. The anger, terror, surely there had to be some sort of explanation. “How so?” Obi-wan asked, trying to rein in his emotions that began to fester under his skin.

“He didn’t like what I had to say, so he threw a chair across my office.” Zaann said with a slight laugh. “Rather juvenile, I'd say.” He added, studying Obi-wan’s expression carefully. 

“Anakin would never do something like that without being seriously threatened or provoked.” Obi-wan declared instantly, realizing he trusted the man standing before him very little, if at all. 

Everything Obi-wan had felt didn’t reconcile with what Qualturus was saying. Something had happened, and it was something that Zaann was never going to admit to. Suddenly Obi-wan felt his vision narrow, looking across at the Jedi Master as his natural enemy. Perhaps it was wrong to feel such things towards other Jedi. He knew it was. He simply couldn’t help it. 

“Obi-wan,” Zaann chided, “you are too close to the situation to see it clearly for what it is.” Qualturus reached out and put a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder, looking into his eyes with mock sincerity. “I know what a great deal you have invested into that boy. I understand what an important charge he is for you. It’s painful to see so much hard work be squandered.” 

Obi-wan shrugged Zaann’s hand off his shoulder with a sneer of disgust. “Anakin is anything but a lost cause.” Obi-wan spat back loudly, nearly snarling. He couldn’t believe his ears. 

“Not every force sensitive is destined for knighthood.” Zaann countered in a soft voice that became sharp as knives against Obi-wan’s nerves. 

“And you think yourself the expert on that do you?” Obi-wan shouted, not caring who might have heard. Immediately he reached through the force, ripping Anakin’s saber from Qualturus’s hands and holstering it at his side. “You should know I’m beginning to value your opinions very little.” He said low, glowering viciously into Zaann’s empty violet eyes. 

The Zabrak let loose a hearty laugh. “My dear friend, please calm yourself. I’m starting to see where Anakin gets his temperament from!” He said, losing himself to another bout of laughter. 

Obi-wan took a menacing step towards the man, just barely restraining himself enough to keep from striking him. He took a breath, lowering his stare as he forced his anger in check. Allowing himself to act out or become overly emotional wasn’t going to help the situation, no matter how much he disliked the man. 

Without another word or an attempted justification for his leave Obi-wan left the classroom, leaving Zaann alone to yet another bout of sardonic laughter that echoed off the stone walls of the hall as he walked briskly towards the apartment wing. 

Obi-wan was still lost in disbelief that Zaann would dare speak such a thing to him, or even think it to begin with. Obi-wan couldn’t imagine calling any Padawan a lost cause. The fact that Zaann had said as much about Anakin only made him that much more furious. 

He needed to find Anakin and talk to him. Obi-wan reached out, sensing with dread that Anakin was nowhere near the temple. He felt a sinking in his stomach as he wished he would be wrong just this once. He searched the apartment to no avail. Anakin’s room was tossed up, his clothes strewn carelessly on the floor and his drawers disheveled. Wherever he was, he had left in a hurry. 

Obi-wan prodded their bond yet again, sensing a significant distance. He could barely feel him on the other end. On Coruscant it wasn’t uncommon for Anakin to sneak out of the temple. Obi-wan had detested it, but as time passed he learned that he needed to accept it. Padawans needed a measure of freedom, after all they were hardly prisoners of the order. Though such extracurricular excursions without supervision weren’t expressly permitted. In fact they were very much against the rules. But all the same, they needed the room to explore. Especially Anakin. 

He wasn’t like all the other Padawans- he hadn’t grown up in isolation behind the walls of the Jedi temple. He was connected to life outside. It set him apart from the other Padawans in many ways that made it difficult to make and maintain friendships with his peers. The time he spent outside in the lower levels was a much needed respite to the stresses of being an outcast of the order. And at least for the most part, Obi-wan knew the general whereabouts of his Padawan at home. He knew Anakin could handle himself, knew he was smart enough to stay out of the wrong kinds of trouble. And for however occasional it had been, when Anakin did manage to find the wrong kinds of trouble, Obi-wan had always been there to come to his rescue. A rescue served up with a healthy portion of reprimands, of course. 

But here Obi-wan hadn’t the first clue of where to look, or what Anakin would even want to do on Devaron. He imagined him out on the streets, sulking. Working out whatever there was to be worked out. Anakin always did his best thinking while in action. Maybe he was meditating someplace, sorting himself out. Obi-wan hoped it was the case but knew better than to put too much stock into the prospect. Especially in light of the anger and fear that he still had yet to put a reason to. With Zaann's blatant omission of crucial information to make it all worse, Obi-wan felt more out of touch with his Padawan than he was comfortable with, and it was making him restless. 

It wouldn’t do to go out and search for him. Eventually, Anakin would have to come back home. When he did, Obi-wan would be waiting for him, ready to give him the support he would undoubtedly need. Grabbing a pillow and a throw blanket, Obi-wan settled down onto the sofa in the main living space. He willed himself to stay awake into the early morning hours, not noticing as he fell into a deep sleep.

…….

Anakin stood tortured in the view of his own reflection as he examined himself. 

He couldn’t stand it. 

He couldn’t stand himself. 

It was his eyes and how they betrayed the fear in his heart. His eyes that looked back at him with that glassy stare that refused to forget the storm that raged inside. The braid that hung over his shoulder that he didn’t deserve- ephemeral reminder of the Master who had never chosen him how other Padawans had been chosen- _wanted._

Wanted was one thing he had never been. No, he had been endured instead. 

And it was all too much. There was too much inside of him and it was all to loud, screaming for his attention all at once creating a terrible chorus of heartache and pain that felt like all the seven hells combined, all burning under his skin. His skin, that felt warm and flush, but cold all at the same time. 

It was the sensation of terror’s wake that buzzed on the ends of his nerves as he willed himself to breathe and calm down, for however much relief it provided him. He could hear the words of his Master coach him through deep breaths, as he had so many times before. But Anakin couldn’t think of his Master without remembering how burdensome he was to the man. Obi-wan deserved a Padwan he wanted. Someone far better and more obedient that Anakin ever could be. 

Obi-wan had helped him through the most difficult times, and Anakin had only ever returned him with thanklessness and selfishness. Amidst the guilt lie his deeply confused emotions, crossed and mixed with doubt. But he willed himself to try to breathe anyways, even if his heart ached relentlessly in his chest. 

Shakily, Anakin pulled in another deep breath, his ribs expanding slightly more this time as his shoulders lowered back down to their normal state. He took another slow breath, this time feeling a sharp pain flash through his side causing a staggered hitch in his breathing. 

Slowly and carefully so as not to aggravate the site, Anakin pulled off his tunic, wincing as his arms rose up overhead to pull it off. Immediately he could see the source of his pain. Dark twin mottled patches of skin presented on his right side where Qualturus had sent the chair slamming into his ribs. Instantly Anakin knew they were fractured, having multiple instances of broken bones to compare his current injury to. 

Anakin peeled his gaze away from the mirror and walked to the fresher, scrounging up a med kit and the pain inhibitors within. Finding the hypo he needed, he ripped off the orange cap and jammed the sharp end of the syringe against his thigh, hissing through clenched teeth at the uncomfortable feeling of the viscous fluid being forcibly injected into his tissues. 

As a Jedi such medicines were commonplace. During his younger years in slavery it was rare to ever recieve pain blockers for any reason. He had endured many injuries and broken bones during those times without any kind of relief other than the sleep that would often be shallow and broken due to the pain. As much as he disliked using them, he had to admit they served a purpose. The sharp stabbing pain in his side slowly melted away into a dull ache that was much more manageable. Sure he could have used the force to meditate his way through the pain, but there was no need to be so occupied. Especially when he was tired. And he was tired. Suddenly, that fatigue escalated into total exhaustion. 

Anakin sauntered into his quarters and collapsed onto the sleeper. He only woke up as a hand shook at his shoulder. The unexpected jostle pulled him to consciousness, his eyes flying open to see Jerot standing over him. Anakin scrambled to sit up, propping himself up on his palms. 

“What are you doing here?” Anakin asked irritably, wiping the sleep grit from his eyes. 

“It’s already after dark, your Master will be here any minute!” Jerot said urgently. His eyes flickered over the dark bruising on Anakin’s torso then back to his face without a change in expression. He must have understood the circumstance behind it. Anakin was thankful he didn’t mention it, but only for a split second before he looked up, noticing the dark twilight that had fallen outside his small port window. 

“Well don’t just sit there, get dressed! You’re going to make us late!” Jerot said impatiently as he began rummaging through Anakin’s dresser drawers hastily, pulling out civilian garments and throwing them at him. 

“Late for what?” Anakin asked fruitlessly as he quickly tore the remnants of his Padawan uniform off and jumped into the fresh set of clothes Jerot had tossed at him. He felt thankful that the pain blocker was still in full effect, allowing him to ignore the otherwise breathtaking pain that would have plagued him. 

“What’s all this about anyways?” Anakin complained as he followed Jerot out into the apartment wing hall and down towards the side turbolift that would bring them to the first level exit. 

“You’ll see.” Jerot said with a sly smile. “You won’t regret it, I promise. If anything you might find it… therapeutic.” He laughed. 

“Well I don’t like surprises.” Anakin said in a flat tone as the turbolift descended quickly. His comment went ignored as they made their way through the exit. Jerot then guided them to trek down a dark dusty road that carved through the forest, presumably emptying out into the major city, or next to one. 

Nearly an hour had passed by the time they came to a larger paved road with a small lean-to structure off to the side. Beneath it were a few benches and a small fresher. Anakin immediately recognised it as a transit station, albeit a much smaller one than he had been used to. 

“The next bus should be by any moment.” Jerot said, squinting at a route schedule that hung on the side of the station. 

“And then what?” Anakin asked, annoyed yet intrigued at the same time. 

“And then we go into the city.” Jerot answered enthusiastically right as a twin set of bright headlights began to round the edge of the road. The low groan of the transit repulsor lifts droned on as the bus came closer. Jerot tucked his braid beneath his poncho and motioned for Anakin to do the same. With a look of skepticism, Anakin followed suit. 

The hulking brick shaped transport stopped at the station, the rusted door folding away to let the two wayward passengers aboard. The vessel was mostly empty, save for a few scattered Devaronians towards the front of the bus, all of whom seemed to be completely indifferent to their presence. It was better that way, Anakin thought. Better to be invisible than to be noticed for the wrong reasons. 

Just before they made their way to the back of the bus, the transport began to rock to and fro as it took off again, barreling down the empty corridor at a moderate speed. Anakin sat down beside a window, looking out at the blur of darkened greens and browns all cast into a smear, barely visibly by the light of the bus as it passed through the desne forest. Jerot sat beside him. 

“Do you ever sneak out on Coruscant?” Jerot asked, no telling expectations in his voice. 

“Well, yeah,” Anakin replied, only a touch reluctant.

“Really?” Jerot remarked with raised brows. 

“Everyone does, sometimes.” Anakin explained. 

“I wouldn’t have thought so.” Jerot said with mild surprise. “You didn’t seem too willing to come along. I basically had to drag you out of the temple.” He chuckled. 

“I’ve already gotten myself into enough trouble as it is. I just want to lay low till I get back home.” Anakin answered grimly, his mood turning darker as he thought of what the consequences of his late night excursion might be if he were caught. What Zaann might have to say, or what he might do, made Anakin's stomach churn. 

“My Master gave you a hard time, didn’t he?” Jerot asked, his words light but their meaning heavy. 

“I guess you could say that.” Anakin replied curtly. “He’s… unpredictable.” 

“Yeah, he can be that way.” Jerot said with a casual sigh. Anakin looked over at him in confusion. 

“What is he going to do if he finds out you snuck out of the temple?” Anakin asked, sensing he was more afraid of the man than his own Padawan. 

“He won’t find out. I know how to work around my Master. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. Not many students last long under Master Qualturus.” Jerot answered with a touch of sorrow. 

“What do you mean?”

“If he doesn’t think you’re serious enough of a student, he will find someone else. He can be a tough teacher, but it’s only because he wants you to reach your potential. He went through four different Padawans in one month before I came along.” Jerot answered with an edge of pride. 

“And how long have you been with him?” Anakin asked.

“Just over three years.” Jerot replied. Anakin’s eyes widened with surprise. Jerot seemed to be amused by it. “Like I said, If I didn’t know how to work around him, I wouldn’t be here. You just have to know how to act and when to fall in line.” 

“Doesn’t it get to you?” Anakin asked, baffled. He couldn’t imagine ever being under a Master so cruel and indifferent. Obi-wan had always been kind and genuine, even when he was stern. That kindness made his strict reprimands so much harsher and difficult to stomach at times. All Anakin ever wanted was to make him proud. He had boundless respect for him. A man like Qualturus, he didn’t think he could ever respect. 

“Yeah it does.” Jerot said, his eyes dimming only for a moment. “But there are plenty of ways to work out frustration,” he added with a sly smile. “You’ll see.” 

“What do you mean?” Anakin asked. 

“Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.” Jerot insisted. “Here’s our stop.” He said as the bus began to slow, coming to a grinding halt outside of a larger transit station. A few more beings filed on while Anakin and Jerot made their exit out the back hatch of the bus. 

Amidst their small exchange, Anakin hadn’t noticed the change in scenery. The tall trees were now replaced with endlessly tall buildings with long, dark, cavernous alleyways in between them. Jerot began to walk down the street with purpose in his step. Anakin followed after him closely. 

“What do you sneak out for when you’re at home?” Jerot asked lightheartedly. 

“Sometimes for parts for my projects, or to race. Sometimes just to be in a place where no one knows who I am, where I can just be no one.” Anakin answered back more solemnly than intended. 

“Sounds lonely.” Jerot said, looking back at him over his shoulder. 

“I guess.” Anakin remarked dourly. “What about you? What do you get out for?” He asked in a lighter tone. 

“For excitement, a change of pace. An outlet. For some people it’s different kinds of spice. But that doesn’t really appeal to me.” Jerot said, taking a turn down an even darker alley. 

Anakin followed. “What do you in the city?” He asked, eyeing the long dark corridor with suspicion. Suddenly, he felt naked without his saber holstered at his side. 

“You’re about to find out.” Jerot replied, turning to knock at a large durasteel door carved into the brick work of the building to their right. A small slider revealed an orange set of eyes looking back at them. 

“Password?” A rough voice asked. The muted roar of a crowd could be heard from within, but just barely. 

“Gateway.” Jerot said seamlessly. 

The slider shut and the door creaked back on its hinges. “Welcome back.” The voice said as the two of them walked through. “You know the rules. Bets are placed at the back counter as well as the sign up list.” Jerot nodded, walking through the dark stone entryway as the metal door closed behind them. A meter or so beyond them stood another door. 

Anakin could feel the wave of energy rush over him the very instant the other door opened, allowing them inside the inner chamber. The smell of too many bodies stuffed into a small space filled his nostrils with its putrid tang. The roar of the crowd, something much larger than the sum of its parts, cried and chanted in a pulsating chaotic harmony that made it nearly impossible to hear himself think.

And that was the point. As they descended down the spiral staircase that led to the bottom of the pit, Anakin could see it had been originally designed as a production floor. Only now instead of machines and product, a mess of beings crowded the base of the pit. Two bipedal figures inside a ring of chain link mesh, one Mirialan and one Devaronian he could see as he came closer, fought against each other. Their movements were swift and graceful and violent all the same. They moved in a series of holds and evasive maneuvers, wrestling against one another in a way that seemed almost too intimate to view so publicly. 

At the center of the ring, glistening above the fighters in blue translucent print were the bets and payouts of the match, along with some numbers that seemed to be associated with a score of sorts. 

Anakin feasted on the sight of it, drank in the energy of the crowd. He could feel the suspense and desperation, the violence thick in the air, dancing on his skin. It was overwhelming, all consuming, more powerful than any spice he could ever dream of. And everyone was cheering for it, craving it. 

He followed Jerot down into the base of the pit unquestioningly, immersing himself inside the noise and chaos. Somehow it felt like coming home. 

Jerot led the way to the back counter where a Dug paced to and fro atop the counter, taking credits and making lists. “Making a bet or signing up?” He asked in a gruff weathered voice. 

“Signing up. Put my friend here on que.” Jerot said with a wild smile. 

It took Anakin a moment to pull back enough from the haze of the room, to hear what Jerot had just said. “Hey I never agreed to this.” Anakin protested, yanking back on Jerot’s upper arm forcefully. “I’m not fighting.” He shouted over the crowd. 

Without bothering to give any verbal retort, Jerot only looked down at the hold on him with a smirk, and then looked back up into his eyes thoroughly amused. 

“What’s he go by?” The Dug asked. 

Jerot looked back at him again, studying him with narrowed thoughtful eyes for a brief moment before he turned back to the Dug. “Max.” He decided, shaking his arm free from Anakin’s grip. 

“Alright I’ll put him in the drawing.” The Dug said, moving quickly to attend the next patron. 

Jerot moved to the outer edge of the pit where there was slightly more space to stand without brushing elbows with others. Anakin followed him, the energy of the room only adding to his exasperation. 

“Max? That’s the best you could come up with?” Anakin shouted, not even hearing his own voice past the roar of the crowd. 

“You look like a Max. Sort of.” Jerot laughed. “Besides it’s not like you can use your real name.” He said, rolling his eyes. 

“I never agreed to this. I’m not doing it.” Anakin shot back, crossing his arms angrily. Something about being put in a fight without his consent reminded him too much of being a slave. 

Jerot looked back at him seriously, all humor bled from his features as he took Anakin by the shoulders. “You need this. More importantly, you _want_ this.” He said, his steel grey eyes boring through him. Anakin shuddered. 

“I could feel the mess inside you the moment I met you. Look at me and tell me you don’t want this.” Jerot challenged. 

Suddenly Anakin felt helplessly naked. Was he really so transparent? His chest tickled as his stomach dropped, feeling flayed bare. Because Jerot was right. He wanted, needed to have an outlet. There was just too much inside of him, all muddling him up. His thoughts, his emotions, He couldn’t make sense of any of them. He wanted to feel something, anything.

Jerot could see Anakin softening to the idea and smiled encouragingly. “You’ll love it. You think just standing here is a rush? Wait till you get in the ring.” 

Anakin didn’t have the strength to say no. The mind numbing senselessness was everywhere, creeping into his skin like a drug he didn’t know how to resist. He could smell it, feel it. It was strangely addictive, blotting out all of his problems. He could feel it turning his pain and anguish into fuel. It was something like what had happened in combat class, but so much more. The sheer intensity of it made his hands tremble with raw anticipation and excitement. 

“You’ve done this before?” Anakin asked, looking for reassurance. 

“Hundreds of times. With Master Qualturus, it keeps me sane.” Jerot answered. “And I have a feeling you have a lot more to work out than one run in with my Master.” Jerot added with interested eyes. 

Anakin felt a spark of sensation flare through his chest as he gave in fully. “What are the rules?”

Jerot smiled, clapping a hand around his shoulder as he pushed their way to the center ring through the dense crowd. “Tonight’s game is blackout. No punches, kicks or swings. You’ll get immediately thrown out for that. Only holds are allowed. The objective is to choke your opponent until they blackout, hence the name of the game.” 

Anakin listened vaguely as he watched the scene unfold. The Mirialan had the Devaronian beneath him, wrapping his hands firmly around the others neck while the Devaronian struggled against his grip. Eventually the Devaronian’s body went limp. The very instant he did, the Mirialan released him and stood with arms overhead, basking in the deafening roar of the crowd. Some cheered, others cursed as they had lost their bets. Quickly a medic dashed out into the ring as the Devaronian began to cough back to consciousness, waving a small scanner over his weakened frame. 

“The que is at random, so you might not even get pulled. But the pool of fighters tonight is relatively small so you’ll probably get called up eventually.” Jerot shouted in his ear hopefully. 

“Force sensitives aren’t allowed to play so it’s important you don’t use the force at all. You’ll get permanently banned if you do. You might not care, but they’ll revoke my pass since I brought you, so don’t even think about it.” Jerot said strictly.

Anakin nodded. The thought of going up against someone without the force to aid him brought another surge of excitement rushing over him with nausea following closely after. He had never really gone up against someone without it. Sure he had been outmatched by means of force ability, he thought with dread as the image of Qualturus flashed behind his eyelids. When the Sith had used his Master’s body against him, he hadn’t dared to deal any maiming or wounding blow. He hadn’t reached out to defend himself, even to his own detriment.

With a shudder he brushed the thought aside, although the sickness it stirred in him remained. “How many times have you won?” Anakin asked, watching the losing contestant vacate the ring while the winner waited for another fighter to be chosen. 

“All times but one.” Jerot said with an obvious edge of pride in his voice. “It’s not really that difficult to beat a bunch of civilians who aren’t combat trained like Jedi are, so it’s a little rigged in our favor. It’s still fun though.” Jerot said, benign hubris not escaping him. 

The blue shimmering holo stole Anakin’s eyes as the que shuffled through names of contestants. The crowd quieted as they waited for the next fighter to be pulled, their eyes glued to the hypnotic dancing script. 

“Alright!” Jerot cheered, clapping a hand on Anakin’s shoulder as the name ‘Max’ shone brightly above them. “Go get em’! I’ll put a bet on your name and we’ll have some credits to spare!” 

The subsequent rush of adrenaline that coursed through Anakin’s veins seemed to dull his senses. The tips of his fingers tingled as the black of his eyes pulled tight into small pinpricks of charcoal ink set within small ocean blue discs. He was aware of his chest rising and falling, but couldn’t really feel himself breathe. 

Carried by the current of the crowd, Anakin made his way to the mouth of the cage and away from Jerot who clung to the outer wall of fencing with excitement and anticipation. Stepping inside, the cagemaster locked the gate behind him. The Mirialan stood opposite him in the seemingly increasingly shrinking ring, arms crossed, an ugly sneer of dominance plastered with creases into his dark olive skin. The being was significantly bulkier than Anakin, with a fully muscled chest that spanned at least five more inches than his own and similar gains against him in height. 

Anakin stood in an unassuming stance, neither showing strength or weakness. The Mirialan snarled a string of words at him. If Anakin had any doubt, the reaction of the crowd told him it was an insult with aim to intimidate. People gasped and hushed one another, waiting for Anakin’s reaction, one they would continue to wait in vain for as Anakin stood solidly planted, no menace or change to his expression. 

A moment passed, the Mirialan turning his grimace into haughty laughter. Another bout of words left his lips, drawing the crowd into roaring laughter with him. Anakin still stood motionless opposite the man, still as stone. He could feel the flux of the crowd, the outrage, confusion, amusement. Tired of trying to goad him into action, the Mirialan ran at Anakin, his head lowered and arms outreached to catch him at waist level. 

What Anakin lacked in stature, he made up for in speed and agility. Nearly at the last moment Anakin dodged skillfully and turned to grab the Mirialan from behind, one arm around the man’s neck and another trapping an arm behind his back. 

Without enough purchase to throw the Mirialan to the ground or make him budge at all, the man walked back to press Anakin up against the edge of the cage. The Mirialan put his full body weight against him, making it difficult for Anakin’s ribs to expand under the pressure. 

Without sufficient oxygen eventually Anakin lost his hold on the man, his muscles not able to maintain their strength. The Mirialan fell against him hard, slamming Anakin painfully against the duracrete floor of the ring that was just barely padded with by few rubber mats. The shock reverberated through Anakin’s body but he kept steady. The Mirialan automatically angled for Anakin’s throat, but anticipating the move moments before it happened he crossed his arms, making an effective hold on his neck impossible. 

He could feel the weight and strength of his opponent bearing down on him in contrast to the energy of the room that pulsed like electricity through his veins. It made him feel alive in ways he didn’t know how to explain. The full contact was viscerally pleasing, and somehow even calming. He felt like it was a new kind of meditation he had yet to discover, and he only knew enough to know he needed more. 

Anakin wrapped one leg around his attacker’s leg and quickly moved to grapple around the man’s shoulder before he thrust a hip against the man’s torso, throwing him off balance and putting the Mirialan on his back. His opponent was lumbering and quite slow, while Anakin was smaller and much quicker. Before the man could counter or defend himself, Anakin zeroed in on the soft flesh under the man’s jaw, placing pressure on the man’s artery with deadly precision.

Seconds went by like minutes as Anakin had his opponent pinned down to the stone cold floor. He could see the animosity and rage dance behind the Mirialan’s dimming glare. The crowd screamed and cried out as the man’s body writhed and strained against his own. Anakin could feel him becoming weak with hypoxia under his grip.

He was winning, and it was far too easy. He should have felt powerful, instead he felt nauseous. His palms dampened with sweat and he began to feel sick. Without thinking Anakin lightened the pressure on the man’s neck, allowing him to gain the advantage, putting Anakin on his back with hands around his neck. 

Gasping against the pressure on his windpipe, Anakin wrapped his hands around the man's wrists. Where raw strength was concerned, Anakin had no chance against him without the force. He had let the man gain the tactical advantage without reason, and now there was no taking it back. 

The feel of a body pressing down on his, hands gripping tightly around his neck, even the dull ache in his broken ribs as his body took the full weight of another. There was a serenity within it, a calm center. This was the meditative place he had discovered. He was powerless, surrendered, completely at the mercy of another. Somehow he found it was what he had wanted all along.

He closed his eyes, allowing the warm darkness to ebb into his body. Someone waited for him there, someone who would want him and have him, who would make him feel like no one else ever could. It was bliss in its truest form. 

Just before the dark took Anakin over completely, the man released his hold on him and scrambled away. The crowd’s roar became chaotic, screams and cries punctuating the air sharply with their shrill notes. Anakin could hear it all just barely over the sound of his own coughing and gasping, his ears ringing from all the noise. 

Anakin squinted against the bright lights, seeing everyone in a panicked rush. The cause he had yet to determine by the time Jerot was in the cage beside him, helping pick him up off the floor. 

Jerot pulled on his arm forcibly, guiding him into the frenzied crowd. “What’s going on?” Anakin yelled, his throat rasping painfully. 

“We need to get out of here!” Jerot yelled above the crowd. “Follow me!” 

Anakin followed him unquestioningly yet again. He began to understand well enough what was going on as they ran for the lower exit. A brigade of law enforcers lined the passageway while another team stormed through the street entrance. A few stragglers were managing to get past the lines but not many. Wide angled stun guns swept through the crowd, catching tens of being at a time in its incapacitating ray field. 

Utilizing their well learned skill of foresight, Anakin and Jerot were able to dodge the blasts without much effort as they ran towards the line of officers, bounding over them in one swift leap and running as fast as they could down the dank and musty passageway of the lower exit. 

Anakin didn’t need to look back to sense the small detachment of officers that had broken off to apprehend them. Thankfully they were far enough ahead of them that stun guns would no longer be effective. Not knowing his way through the labyrinth of underground passageways as well as he sensed Jerot did, Anakin followed him closely through the twists and turns. Still, he could see the beams of light that indicated the officers chasing them weren’t too far behind. 

Finally around one bend was a maintenance lift. Jerot leapt onto the scaffold and keyed the lift on. It shuddered to life reluctantly, taking longer than expected. Anakin could hear the patter of the officer’s just around the bend, the beams of light becoming stronger and more focused as they came too close for comfort. 

“Hey, stop right there!” One officer commanded while the other aimed a stun rifle right at them. 

With a sweeping motion and a pull of force, Jerot reached out and pulled the stun gun out of the officer’s grip, overloading the capacitor. A high pitched whine trilled before the gun exploded in a hot white blast of energy, completely destroying the weapon. 

“They’re Jedi!” Another officer cried out in bewilderment. Jerot laughed as he reached out again, twisting tendrils of force around each weapon the officers held, sending them into overload simultaneously with a rich chorus of shrill whirring and verbal outrage. 

Understanding what he had done, the officers all threw their blasters as far away from themselves as possible just moments before they detonated. FInally, albeit not soon enough, the scaffold pressed up into the maintenance shaft, out of view and reach of the disgruntled officers below. 

Taking a moment to catch his breath, feeling leaching back into his senses, Anakin became outraged. “What in the seven hells was that about?!” He exclaimed. 

“You aren’t so naive to think that was legal, are you?” Jerot laughed. “It’s not the first time it’s gotten busted up, and it won’t be the last. It will pop up in another corner of the city just as quickly as they tear this one down.” 

“Obviously,” Anakin said, irritated. “I just wanted to keep a low profile until I get back home. I’m not trying to get myself into any more trouble, but you had to show off in front of those officers and now they’re going to report it to the temple. And when they do, we’ll both be dead!” Anakin shouted, trembling as he thought of it. 

“They won’t be able to prove it was us. Besides,” Jerot said, transitioning his tone of voice to become gently accusing. “What _you_ did back there didn’t exactly scream low profile either.” 

“You’re the one who dragged me out here,” Anakin shot back defensively. 

“You came of your own volition, because you were curious.” Jerot told him assuredly. “Besides, you know that’s not what I mean.” 

“How far up does this maintenance shaft go? We’ve been here forever.” Anakin said, trying to change the topic. Jerot might not have been able to see the bright red that rose up over his cheeks in the near-pitch black of the lift, but that didn't make Anakin feel better one bit. 

Just as Anakin complained, they surfaced on the rooftop of a building. The two of them walked out to the edge, seeing the rush of lights and police speeders down below, gathered at the base of the building across and down the street where the arena had been. Anakin could barely see the commotion from so high up. When he looked further out in the distance, he could see the twinkling lights of the uptown buildings on the other side of town that towered over the smaller, shabbier high rises of the downtown area. 

While Anakin willfully focused his gaze outward, he could feel Jerot’s eyes burning into his skull. “You went out there and lost on purpose. You _wanted_ to lose. It’s a good thing the fight got busted up when it did, or else I would have been out a lot of credits.” Jerot added with a touch of humor. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Anakin sneered. 

“I do. The more time I spend with you, the more you start to make sense.” Jerot said, a touch enlightened, and too convicted for Anakin's liking. 

Anakin looked over at Jerot with a sour expression and blanched as he saw the clear understanding in his eyes. “You don’t want to work out your frustration, it’s not that simple. I think you just want to feel something. Because you’re full of things you can’t understand. You want it all to go away, even if only temporarily.”

“You act like I'm some sort of puzzle for you to solve. The truth is you still don’t know the first thing about me.” Said, a shade of desperation coloring his voice. He wished he could have been more convincing. He could tell by the devilish shine in the boy’s eyes and the trace smile on his lips, that Jerot wasn’t believing a word of it. 

“Don’t you though?” Jerot asked wistfully.

“Don’t I what?” Anakin bit back irritably.

Jerot came a step closer, placing a gentle finger under Anakin’s chin. “Don’t you just want to feel something other than whatever it is that’s tearing you apart inside?” 

Anakin felt his heart drop as his breath caught in his throat. Jerot smiled as he leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. “There are other ways to feel something.” He said, kissing Anakin’s neck just below his jaw, gently sucking on his flesh. 

Anakin closed his eyes, feeling his skin prickle as a shiver ran up his spine, all the thoughts bleeding from his mind. His body wanted to be touched and held, his soul ached for it so badly. Almost as much as his heart wanted answers to the things of which he remained most painfully uncertain. 

Jerot was right about him, detrimentally right. He did just want to feel something, to forget everything that had happened, to stop the gnawing ache he felt when he thought of his Master. The burning anger mixed with helplessness and confusion that was unavoidably attached to all of it. 

Anakin felt him lean in closer, the gravity of shared desire pooling between them. Jerot pulled away from his neck for a breath before Anakin met him fervently, feeling the intoxicating sensation of another mouth on his own. He loved the way it felt, warm swollen lips pressed against his own, a hot demanding tongue pressing inside, dominating him. 

He tasted like flesh. Anakin could smell as he breathed in deep through his nostrils, the slight floral scent of Jerot’s skin. It contrasted the domineering way he kissed him, the way he put a hand around his neck, the fist that pulled in his hair firmly yet gently at the same time. 

Somehow in his mind he found himself comparing it to the rich musk of his Master with slight disappointment. His heart ached for that blissful meditative emptiness that had filled him before, wondering if he might find it again if he have himself over to the hands of another. The thought of it excited him, sending a thrill through his belly. 

Anakin could sense Jerot asking for permission through energy that danced in the air between them, feeling out a number of things, consent among them. Anakin opened himself to him enough to accept. Sensing his agreeance Jerot pulled away, a lust drunk expression filling his eyes as he shoved him firmly against the brick barrier behind them, quickly and clumsily undoing the closure on Anakin’s trousers with youthful excitement. 

Finally managing to loosen Anakin’s pants enough, Jerot knelt as he yanked them down past Anakin’s knees, his undergarments coming down with them. Anakin felt himself blush fiercely when his erection bobbed as his clothes fell past, revealing his fully hardened, weeping girth. Still kneeling, Jerot took him in hand firmly as he gazed up at him shamelessly. 

Anakin couldn’t help but let out a gasp as he felt a hand on him. Only his Master had ever touched him that way. Except it hadn’t been his Master-

Anakin’s train of thought derailed as Jerot dragged his tongue over his tip slowly, drenching him generously before he took him in his mouth, suckling him eagerly. Jerot’s wide gray eyes stared up at him lewdly as Anakin’s breath faltered. _This_ was something that no one had ever done to him before. Lips locked around his shaft, sucking and pumping, tongue dancing around his tip skillfully. The low vibration of a moan from Jerot’s throat added to the sensation that was already totally overwhelming. 

Anakin threw his head back, feeling the pleasurable warmth pooling between his thighs grow brighter, making his knees weak. Perhaps sensing he was too close to climax for his liking, Jerot pulled back from him and put hands on Anakin to turn him to face the stone barrier. 

Anakin gasped from the unexpected sensation as he felt Jerot fuck him with his mouth, a small trail of saliva already beginning to run down his thigh. He could feel the tremor of excitement in Jerot’s hands as he spread him apart, clinging to his hips. Anakin couldn’t keep the soft sighs from his lips as he gazed out over the cityscape in a sex lulled haze, his eyes mirrors to the mind numbing pleasure that hummed throughout his body. 

Satisfied that he was wet enough, Jerot stood behind him and unfastened his own trousers. Pulling himself out he quickly wet himself, stroking his own cock against Anakin’s slicked ass. Feeling the heat of a significantly large cock against him, Anakin turned around to see for himself, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Jerot’s manhood, hot and throbbing as he continued to stroke himself. 

Amused, Jerot took Anakin’s cock in hand, stroking them both in his strong grip as Anakin let out another startled gasp. Jerot smiled. “Surprised?” 

Anakin stood speechless, pressing up against the wall as Jerot continued to work him relentlessly. Anakin could feel the pulse of Jerot’s cock against his own as he came dangerously close, too close. He couldn’t speak, he could barely breathe as he ached with nearly sated pleasure. 

Jerot leaned in close, his breath falling hot on Anakin’s lips. “Do you still want me to-”

“Yes.” Anakin said, opening his eyes wide to convey his need, his desire. 

His desperation. 

He needed someone’s hands to hold him, someone inside of him like he needed oxygen. He wanted to feel a sort of violence on his skin, he didn’t know why. He wanted to feel needed, to be wanted. He wanted to reach that place of peace and serenity that transcended everything else he had ever known. A place where sensation was the only thing that existed. 

Jerot let go of him and took Anakin by the shoulders, turning him around to face the brick barrier again, this time more aggressively than he had the last time. With hand on his shoulder to steady him, Jerot placed himself firmly against Anakin’s ass and pressed inside of him with gentle steady pressure. 

Anakin couldn’t help but let out a small cry, one bourne of pain and surprise, an audible manifestation of the way his stomach turned to stone and his chest closed around his breath. He felt Jerot pause, clearly worried he was hurting him. And it did hurt, but only mildly. Nothing like the gut wrenching pain he had felt when…

Anakin felt Jerot rest his chin on his shoulder in wait, nuzzling up against Anakin’s face softly. “Don’t stop,” Anakin said with labored breath. 

“Are you sure?” Jerot asked, a touch of concern to his words. 

Anakin nodded his head. “I’m sure.” 

Jerot began to thrust gently just past the band of taut muscle of his entrance. Anakin could hear the soft sounds of pleasure in Jerot’s near inaudible breathless moans as he slowly fucked him. Anakin could feel Jerot’s hips tremble with restraint as he tried to be gentle with him. For some reason it made his stomach sick, made his skin crawl. 

“Harder,” Anakin cried out, gripping the stone wall’s edge to steady himself. Jerot thrust deeper in him this time yet still gingerly, holding himself back. It left Anakin feeling empty, broken somehow, like he was missing a piece of himself that he didn’t know how to get back. 

“ _Harder,_ ” Anakin begged, feeling Jerot slam into him in response. Anakin let out a whimper, one of both pain and pleasure as he felt himself forcibly stretched open to take Jerot fully. He pulled nearly all the way out to slam into him again, a low moan of pleasure sending a tingle of elation through Anakin’s chest. 

_This_ what what he had wanted. A vice-like grip on his hips, cock violently slamming into him, punctuated by feral moans and grunts. He closed his eyes, feeling drunk on the sensations that mixed and crossed inside him. His cock was hard, pulsing, dripping and aching. 

His mind was blissfully empty, sensation flooding every cell of his body. He wanted so much more, more than he knew how to ask for, more than he even knew how to put into words. Then, a hand closed around his throat. Not so much that he couldn’t breathe, but firmly enough still. The other hand sunk into the flesh of his hip, cock thrusting even deeper and more erratically inside him. 

And there he found it, the calm, peaceful center. He felt pain, pleasure, hands on him, someone inside of him, using him how he wanted to be used. It was an empty void inside himself where nothing existed outside his flesh and his basest desires. The place where he was wanted most, where the one he wanted most would always be. Where everything made sense, because nothing had to make sense outside of the bright warm sensations that lit up his flesh. 

He felt silent words form on his lips, given life by the grunts and cries that Jerot fucked out of him. 

“ _Oh- Mm,_ ” Anakin moaned as the grip on his throat tightened, his world becoming slightly and deliciously hazed over. 

“Do you want me to cum inside you?” Jerot asked, voice taut with restraint and cresting pleasure.

“ _Yes Master,_ ” Anakin said submissively, completely lost in his personal nirvana of pain and pleasure and so many other things he had lost and found all at the same time. 

Jerot slammed deep inside him, pulsing and thrusting. His grip on Anakin’s throat relented to take hold of his cock, stroking him quick and hard, his other hand pinching at his nipples under his tunic making Anakin squirm. Anakin felt the intoxicating fullness inside of him as his own pleasure heightened, tightening his muscle around Jerot’s throbbing cock.

Anakin climaxed, arching his back against Jerot, sending him over the edge as well. Their bodies convulsed against each other, overwhelmed by the bright shock of orgasm. 

For several moments after, they stayed leaned up against the brick barrier of the highrise. Anakin suddenly became aware of how weak his legs were. He didn’t think he could keep himself upright for much longer. He held onto the brick for stability as Jerot withdrew from him. 

It took Anakin a few moments to come back to reality, but when he did, he felt a veil of shame fall over him, a wave of understanding crashing right after it. He pulled up his trousers and fastened them, turning around to see Jerot doing the same, a broad smile on his flushed face. 

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said, thoroughly mortified. 

“For what?” He asked back genuinely. 

“I-”

“Called out for your Master when my cock was in your ass?” Jerot laughed. 

Anakin turned a few shades of red darker under the casual statement. Quickly Jerot sensed his unease and explained himself further. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said kindly. “Just another piece to the mysterious puzzle called Anakin Skywalker.” Jerot laughed. 

Anakin shied away from the comment, visibly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I’m making fun and I shouldn’t be. Honestly, I just wanted to help you feel something, take your mind off things.”

“That’s _all_ you wanted?” Anakin shot back skeptically, half in jest, half serious. 

“That’s why I get out too, you know? To just forget about it all, to feel something else. And I’ve got to say, you are not all you seem to be, Anakin Skywalker.” Jerot said with a tone of pleasant surprise. 

Anakin looked back at him in question, but didn’t say anything more. Jerot seemed to be content with his remark, changing gears as he looked around for a way off the rooftop.

“It’s probably time we start heading home if we want to make it to class on time.” Jerot said. “And I have a feeling, taking the lift back down would be a bad idea.” 

Anakin agreed. Finding a smaller building to leap down onto, they were able to bound back to the street below. Since all the bus stations had closed down by the time they were heading back, they had to make the entire journey on foot. Mostly it passed in silence. 

But inside Anakin was anything but silence. His mind reeled with the implications of what he had felt. It was the realization that he did love his Master, and he had no idea what to do about it, or if there was anything to be done about it. Sex was just sex, but his heart and mind pulled to Obi-wan when he was at his most base and vulnerable. He was the only one he wanted to feel on his skin, the only one who could make him feel whole.

And somehow it felt even worse than not knowing at all. 

“You love him, don’t you.” Jerot said simply, the trees and creatures of the night serenading around them as they walked through the dense forest. 

“Yeah.” Anakin said, still somewhat in shock.

“Does he know?” Jerot asked, intrigued. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I didn’t even really know, until…” Anakin said, trailing off uncomfortably. 

“Oh,” Jerot said, understanding the gravity of what remained unsaid. “Wow, that’s crazy.” 

“Yeah.” Anakin said in agreeance. 

“He’s never hurt you, has he?” Jerot asked, for some reason concern filling his voice. 

“No, never. He would never hurt me.” Anakin said with conviction. 

“Good. Master Kenobi seems like a good man.” Jerot said, nodding with approval before his voice turned darker. “He’s nothing like my Master.” 

Anakin’s stomach churned. No, Obi-wan was nothing like Zaann. Anakin changed the topic. “So do you love someone?” He asked light heartedly. 

“I don’t know, maybe. But I don’t think I could ever be tied to just one person. It seems, restrictive.” Jerot said thoughtfully. 

“I don’t know if love means being tied to just one person.” Anakin answered.

“Maybe. I guess it depends on who you love.” Jerot answered. 

“I guess it does.”


	15. Tattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^_^

By the time Jerot and Anakin made it back to the temple, the sky was already lit with dawn’s early rays streaking through the otherwise black of open space that hung above the odd world. Morning classes would start in less than an hour from the time Anakin could even make it back up to their apartment. Another day would begin, seamless from the last, completely indifferent to any plight or pleas for just one more hour of darkness. 

And in spite of the empty nausea that stirred in the pit of Anakin’s stomach, along with the small black hole that seemed to take residence inside his chest, he could feel the energy of the nexus singing brightly all around him. Light was rife in the air, dancing in the trees. The flora and fauna that surrounded the temple was all too beautiful to quietly coexist with the ache that burned inside of him. It was a debilitating sort of pain that ebbed at the center of his being, both disabling and soul shattering for however muted it was for the moment. It was the subtle reminder of all the things that he would never be, no matter how hard he might have tried. 

Still cloaked in silence, Jerot and Anakin made their way through the side entrance as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw any undue attention to themselves. It was already bad enough that they had to trek up through the temple wearing civilian clothes that would undoubtedly make them stand out to begin with. However with a measure of luck they made it up to the apartment wing without anyone taking notice. 

“I’ll see you in class then?” Jerot said in parting, already sensing Anakin’s deviating intent.

“I don’t know,” Anakin said doubtfully, knowing well he had no plans to go to class at all. 

“I see you’re giving up on keeping a low profile.” Jerot remarked with a touch of worry. “If you’re already on unsteady ground with my Master, skipping class isn’t going to earn you any points with him.” 

Anakin felt anxious tension form in his chest, but willed himself against its presence. “What’s he going to do, kill me?” Anakin said sarcastically.

“It’s your funeral.” Jerot replied, not as much humor in his voice as Anakin would have expected. Though just as quickly he brushed off the morose expression, exchanging it for a brighter one. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later then?” Jerot said with a smile, turning to leave for his own quarters. 

With a growing knot in his chest, Anakin turned to make the dreaded march back to his own shared apartment. He didn’t dare reach out to feel if his Master was still there. He didn’t want to know. The horrid suspense seemed preferable to reaching out, only to be felt by the man he was trying to avoid. 

And as the knot in his chest tightened, the ache in his side returned, sending sharp stabbing pain through his frame with each step. His nightly activities certainly hadn’t helped him heal up at all. No, more likely than not he had exacerbated his injuries. 

Anakin stood before the door to the apartment, mustering up the courage to walk inside. He took a breath of relief when he found it empty. He walked over towards his quarters, finding everything just as he had left it. 

Feeling something had looked different as he had walked through the main living space, he turned back, realizing the sofa was somewhat disheveled with a pillow and blanket tossed to the side. Anakin saw the wrinkled imprint of where his Master’s body had been, still clearly impressed into the soft material of the cushions. 

Anakin smoothed a hand over the matted texture of the sofa, feeling his Master’s essence linger in the space. His heart wrenched around the uncomfortable reality of the state of their relationship. Obi-wan had probably waited up for him for hours, waiting for him to come home, just to get up and realize he was still gone. Obi-wan deserved better, Anakin thought, feeling the searing regret tormenting his already troubled spirit.

Anakin took the discarded blanket and folded it, placing it neatly with care on the arm of the sofa and fluffed out his Master’s pillow and set it neatly on his sleeper. He smoothed over the sofa cushions, erasing the impression his Master’s body had left, leaving the front dwelling completely clean. Obi-wan always insisted on things being left tidy, and had preached endlessly about respecting their surroundings and environment when he had been younger. 

Anakin went to his own quarters and folded his clothes, stowing them away as he ought to have. He could hear his Master’s softly chastising voice in the back of his mind, filling his heart with even more remorse and sorrow. It was the impossible burden of his own feelings that would never amount to anything. They would only serve as a reminder of how unworthy he truly was to have Obi-wan as his Master. 

It didn’t matter that he had finally figured out how much he loved the man. Obi-wan would always deserve better. He would never be someone to be proud of. He was already a failure. 

A waste. 

Obi-wan was really just wasting his time, Anakin concluded. Qualturus was a nasty, mean spirited person. But if he was right about anything, it was that one single thing. 

With his quarters clean, and the gaping tear in his heart ever in disrepair, Anakin stripped off his soiled civilian clothes and walked into the fresher, turning on the shower to rinse the grime off his skin. He had forgotten to take another pain blocker before he went into the shower, but the steadily increasing throbbing ache in his side reminded him. The swelling didn’t like the hot water that cascaded down his skin, waking up the angry nerves in his broken bones and the tissue that surrounded them. 

But Anakin breathed through the pain, using it to center himself away from all that distracted and taunted him. He didn’t have to think about how his Master seemed to be at the heart of everything that soothed and tortured him. How even in the arms of someone else, he found him there. Anakin didn’t have to worry about that now, or what he would say when he eventually faced him. 

He might not have had to think about it, but the pain that it stirred in him remained, unattached from thought and reason. The immensity of it seemed far worse and brighter than any physical ailment could ever make him feel. Having his mind empty was only a slight measure of comfort, that didn’t seem to amount to much amidst the growing heap of torturous emotions. 

Because he could feel the nexus sing all around him, and he felt like a boulder in it’s stream of light and goodness. For however much it scathed the surface of his flesh, none of it seemed to penetrate his surface. He remained that much darker for its contrasting shine against his weary soul. 

With palms near pruning, Anakin twisted the water off and reached for a towel, tousling it over his hair before he tied it around his hips. He caught a fleeting glimpse of his fatigued expression in the mirror, along with the darkish purple of broken ribs still painting his side with its grim reminder. 

His chest ignited with helpless rage. He was furious with himself for how weak he had become. On Kraysiss two, not raising his saber against his own Master had been a choice, one that had barely seemed a choice at all, but one he had made. He knew he could never hurt Obi-wan, not even if he had been taken over by someone, _something_ else. It wasn’t in him to do, it never would be. 

But Zaann, he, _had_ tried to contest against, even if just barely. The man had caught him off guard. Anakin never expected to receive such treatment at the hands of someone who carried the rank of Jedi Master. It went against everything a Jedi was supposed to be. Anakin hadn’t even had his saber to defend himself. Everything about the circumstance made his blood boil. 

Was he really so helpless? Could he have done nothing else to save himself? He had been reduced to begging for his life at the end of their encounter. The thought made Anakin’s skin crawl. He was better than that, wasn’t he? More able? He had to have been. 

The scar of memory ached in his mind- that terrible moment when he had been unable to protect his mother against those two awful men. He had been helpless then, and they both suffered for it. And in spite of all the effort Obi-wan had put into him, somehow he remained helpless all the same. 

He was weak, pathetic. The thought of his failure brought stinging tears to his eyes that he blinked away intolerantly. Weak _and_ self pitying, even worse. He felt a flare of hate towards himself. He would never be the Padawan that his Master deserved, but it was even worse than that. It wasn’t just a lack of discipline. It was absence of potential. Obi-wan was toiling away for a lost cause. He would never amount to anything. 

Anakin wiped hot tears from his eyes and took a breath, pain lancing through his side anew. The pain blocker had completely worn off and he was more than in need of another. In search of another, Anakin threw the door of the fresher open, his blood running cold in an instant. 

Anakin froze, afraid to breathe or even blink as he looked out at the hollowed skull of a monster that stood before him. The decrepit wiry frame topped with a mouth full of razor sharp teeth menaced barely a meter away from where he stood. In spite of its lack of eyes, it stared at him with a beastly hunger, a rasping snarl ripping out of its throat. 

Helpless yet again, no saber to cut the thing down, Anakin stumbled backwards, falling onto his back as the beast took one wavering step towards him. Its gnarled claws tore into the carpet of his quarters before it lurched forward, hurling itself at him teeth first towards his bare flesh. 

With a startled cry Anakin reached out and shoved the monster against the opposite wall of his quarters. The beast let out a high pitched whine and with unnaturally deft speed, scrambled towards him in a ghastly crawl on all fours. Without a second to draw breath Anakin coiled force around the fresher door, slamming it shut and locking it just in the nick of time. 

The door shuddered with impact as the beast slammed itself against it again and again with animalistic single mindedness. The sick thud was punctuated by shrill horrendous whines from its corroded vocal chords that sounded like they might snap at any given moment. Gnarled claws clacked against the metal doorframe, seeming to search out a handle or switch to open the door. 

Fearfully Anakin scrambled back further, pressing his back hard up against the far wall of the fresher. He felt his lips grow cold and his hands shake, the pain of his injury numbed by shock. Helpless again, Anakin thought, too much fear gripping him to feel any anger towards himself in the moment. 

…….

Obi-wan hadn’t had a moment to address his first class when he felt the first hint of something amiss. At first it hadn’t surprised him at all. It seemed to be the same dull drone of angst that had permeated Anakin’s aura of late. However it hurt him to feel Anakin in such a state, it hardly seemed out of the ordinary. 

But it escalated quickly, a shockwave of raw terror pushing through him. Obi-wan’s stomach ached anxiously. He didn’t think he could stand trying to ignore it this time. His heart wrenched, and somehow it didn’t seem like investigating the situation would be giving in to his own unruly emotions. To let it go on unchecked would be neglect, especially since Anakin had been out the entire night prior. 

_Master!_

All internal deliberation on the topic ceased immediately as Anakin’s voice cut through his thoughts, reaching out desperately across their bond. Obi-wan quickly cased to the classroom door, nearly forgetting the group of confused students that watched him leave. 

“...No class today,” Obi-wan mumbled out distractedly before he left the room, breaking out into a sprint towards Anakin’s force presence that seemed to be somewhere near apartment wing. 

Finding himself headed towards their shared quarters, Obi-wan threw the door to their apartment open and rushed inside, pulling the door to Anakin’s room open after. Obi-wan paused, feeling slightly confused. 

“Anakin?” Obi-wan called out, his eyes moving to the fresher door that had been locked and closed from the inside. Obi-wan walked over closer, knocking on the door. He could feel Anakin’s presence burning on the other side like a beacon through the force. 

“Anakin, open the door.” Obi-wan commanded, hearing the tremor in his breathless voice. He heard what seemed like a whimper from the other side, but no coherent verbal answer. 

“Anakin as your Master I command you to open this door at once!” Obi-wan said, his voice more sounding more angry than he would have liked, but he couldn’t help it. He felt terrified and helpless in equal measure. 

Thoroughly done asking, Obi-wan opened the door himself, striking the locking mechanism through with a flash of his saber before he wrenched the door open on its track manually. Curled up at the far end of the fresher was Anakin, half naked and huddled in a trembling mess on the floor. 

Obi-wan rushed over to kneel beside him. Anakin was reluctant to unfurl from his position. Obi-wan ran a hand through his dampened locks causing the boy to shiver. Still, Anakin avoided his gaze. 

“What happened?” Obi-wan said softly, allowing himself to breathe. Anakin was here, seemingly unharmed. Everything was going to be alright. 

But the way Anakin’s eyes avoidantly darted to and fro, unwilling to make or sustain eye contact, made Obi-wan’s chest fracture through. A full strafe of worst-case scenarios ran through Obi-wan’s mind in the span of a second, filling his chest with rage and fear anew as his stomach dropped. 

“Anakin, tell me what happened.” Obi-wan said, a touch more commanding. 

Obi-wan took Anakin’s face gently between his hands, his heart breaking. Anakin was tattered and fragile, his spirit just hanging together by shredded threads of composure. Clearly, he was going about this the wrong way.

Obi-wan’s voice softened. “Here, let’s get you dressed and make some tea, alright? You must be freezing.” Obi-wan said reassuringly, noting the purple shade of Anakin’s lips with a dull ache in his chest. Anakin’s lip quivered at the suggestion, restraining more tears as he nodded willingly. 

Obi-wan stood and waited for Anakin to follow, but he appeared to be having some trouble. Obi-wan reached out a hand to help him up. Hesitantly, Anakin accepted. With a grimace and stuttered gasp, Anakin righted himself, a hand wrapped around his torso to hold at his side. 

Obi-wan pulled Anakin’s hand away gently and looked, seeing the mottled bloom of differing shades of plum and violet rise up underneath the skin of his side. Obi-wan placed a gentle hand over the cite, sensing the boy’s broken ribs. Though from the look of the bruising and the feel of the wound, it wasn’t quite fresh. 

Obi-wan felt his body begin to quake with rage, but he willed himself to remain calm. Anakin was clearly traumatized or extremely upset, and to gain any insight from him Obi-wan would need to keep steady himself. 

Gently, Obi-wan guided Anakin to sit on his sleeper while he set out in search of a medkit. Finding it, he rummaged through for a pain blocker. He was able to find one, though there ought to have been two in the kit. Anakin must have already used one himself. More questions presented in Obi-wan’s mind that he forced himself to sideline for the moment. 

Obi-wan went back over to Anakin who still sat obediently on his sleeper where he had left him. Obi-wan knelt before him and pushed the towel up his thigh, gently probing for a suitable injection site. “Take a deep breath,” Obi-wan ordered softly, just before he depressed the hypo against the side of his thigh. He felt a twinge of guilt when Anakin flinched against it. 

Quickly, Obi-wan placed a bacta patch over the broken ribs in order to speed up the healing process, then went to rummage through Anakin’s dresser for fresh clothes. Finding them, he sat them on the sleeper beside Anakin and promptly turned to leave. 

“Go ahead and get dressed and I’ll make some tea.” Obi-wan said in a sterile voice. It was the only alternative to giving any voice to the welling emotions that began to boil inside of him. He couldn’t let any of it leach out into his words and actions. It was already difficult enough to keep from demanding answers for the numerous questions that bounced around his skull. It would be a challenge to keep from interrogating him, it would only serve as counterproductive if he did. 

And Anakin gave him no answer as Obi-wan closed the door, setting himself to the ritualistic task of making tea. He thought it would help calm himself down, as well as help soothe Anakin. Though as the water began to boil, and he poured the hot steaming liquid over the dry crushed leaves, he felt his mind still teeming with questions that he desperately needed answers to. 

Just as he began to set the table, Obi-wan saw Anakin emerge from his quarters. He looked a shade less pale, and his lips had nearly returned to their usual pink color instead of the sick violet that mimicked the nauseating bruises on his side. Obi-wan forced a smile onto his lips. For however strained it may have been, it was indeed genuine, cut through with concern and fear. Obi-wan’s mind still played over the worst things he could imagine being enacted on his beloved’s flesh. It made him cringe and scream inside all at the same time. 

Anakin sat across from him as he had so many times before. Obi-wan could sense the heavy weight of burden in his heart, something vague he couldn’t narrow down, among other things that muddled his aura. Even if he had been blind to it all, he would have seen the weight of it on the boy’s body as he moved languidly, as if all the life had been drained from him. 

Obi-wan poured Anakin a cup of brew, then one for himself, setting the well used teapot in the center of the table between them, small vapors of steam rising up from its spout. Obi-wan took his cup between his hands, looking down at the tinted liquid as if it might hold the answer to what he should say, or how he should say it. He felt mute instead, all the things he needed but couldn’t say jumbled up in a knot, lodged in his throat. 

Perhaps on the verge of speaking, Anakin pursed his lips and furrowed his brows as he inhaled through his nostrils, but continued to forgo explanation for more silence instead. Obi-wan felt his heart burn inside his chest, taunted by the truth of what happened, by the too many possibilities that scraped the inside of his skull. 

“Anakin,” Obi-wan started, hoping the boy might meet his eyes. “No matter what happens, I’m going to be here for you. But I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.” He said, using the most level voice he could employ. In spite of his best efforts, it undulated with unsteady emotion. Still, Anakin only retreated in on himself more. Obi-wan couldn’t stand it. He could feel his practiced demeanor falter slightly, letting a sliver of his emotions past his defenses. 

“I know these have been difficult times, but I’m sitting here running a thousand different scenarios in my mind of all the different ways you could have been hurt and it’s driving me crazy.” Obi-wan said in one breath, surprised by the burst of disclosure that he instantly regretted. He couldn’t reverse the self centered remark, or the tears that had already begun to gloss over his eyes. 

Anakin swallowed hard, glancing up at his Master then back down to the cup he held between his palms, a pained expression in his beautiful blue eyes.

However a selfish remark it had been, it seemed to be effective as Anakin began to speak. “I thought I saw something, but I couldn’t have.” Anakin said, conflicted. 

“Thought you saw what?” Obi-wan asked, trying hard to hold back his frustration. 

Anakin searched the air before him. “That… thing, the monster from Kraysiss. It was there, in my room.” Anakin said, looking up into his Master’s eyes, finally. “I could see it as clearly as I see you now.” 

Anakin averted his gaze just as quickly. “But that can’t be. I feel like I’m going crazy.” Anakin mused, slightly embarrassed. 

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” Obi-wan said immediately. “Whatever you say, I believe you.” 

Anakin looked up at him bashfully. “But it doesn’t make any sense. It was there, screaming, banging on the door, up to the very second you opened it. And you didn’t see anything.” 

“That doesn’t mean you didn’t see it.” Obi-wan insisted. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean anything other than the fact that I’m totally crazy.” Anakin said, defeated. 

“I don’t think so.” Obi-wan said skeptically, swirling the tea in his cup and taking a sip. 

“Well then what do you suggest?” Anakin asked irritably. 

“Maybe exhaustion, some sort of hallucination. You _were_ out all night last night.” Obi-wan said as gently as possible, not wanting to seem too chastising. 

Still, Anakin deflated with a trace of guilt before a spiteful sneer touched his lips. “Still sounds like crazy to me.” 

Obi-wan set down his cup and reached across to cradle Anakin’s hands within his own, only a passing second thought as to whether or not he was letting his emotions control him too much. Any touch seemed inappropriate when his heart was ruthlessly unrelenting in wanting so much more. 

“You are not crazy. I think you’re exhausted both physically and mentally.” Obi-wan said in a warm voice. 

The comment had been meant to console, though it seemed to have the opposite effect. “I’m _weak,_ physically and mentally.” Anakin declared, his voice taut with emotion. “And most of all, I’m a waste of your time.” 

Anakin pulled his hands back from his Master’s touch. “And I’m never going to be what you want me to be.” He insisted, quickly wiping away the telling moisture in his eyes. 

Obi-wan’s focus sharpened as things began to make sense. “Who told you that?” He asked, mindful to keep a soft edge to his voice, especially as his anger began to wax again, creeping over his chest. 

Anakin shook his head in frustration. “Who told me?” He said indignantly, “It doesn’t matter when it’s true.” Anakin insisted through bated tears. 

“Oh Padawan, nothing could be further from the truth.” Obi-wan said earnestly, searching out Anakin’s tortured soul.

Anakin returned him with silence, dangerously near the edge of tears. Obi-wan took a breath, trying to navigate the situation as best he could. 

“I have something for you.” Obi-wan said gently. Reaching to the back of his belt he unclasped Anakin’s saber and took it in his hands. Anakin’s eyes widened as his shoulders tensed, then wilted, upon seeing the weapon in his Master’s possession. Obi-wan presented it for him to take, but Anakin shirked away from it. 

“A Jedi should never be without their lightsaber.” Obi-wan said simply, nearly routine, as he had a thousand times over before. 

Anakin shrunk away from his words. Regardless, Obi-wan placed the saber on the table beside Anakin’s cup for him to take when he was ready. “What happened to your side?” Obi-wan asked calmly. 

This time he could see the boy’s complexion pale in response to the question. A flash of fear crossed Obi-wan’s heart. “Someone hurt you. I need to know what happened.” He said, trying to keep his voice steady against his unsteady emotions. 

“It’s nothing.” Anakin said in monotone. 

“It was Zaann, wasn’t it.” Obi-wan said, restraining himself, his anger and outrage. But Anakin could hear the anger flourish from his flatly spoken words. 

And the way Anakin’s shoulders stiffened in response to the allegation, told Obi-wan he had struck a vein of truth. Still, too much remained unknown. Obi-wan’s mind ran wild with all the ways he might have hurt Anakin. After all, not all wounds held such a physical manifestation. Obi-wan tried to steady his trembling hands by pressing his palms into the table top, but the residual fear he felt crept into his veins, transmuting to rage. 

Obi-wan felt his chest rise and fall at an increasingly rapid pace, his thoughts turning murderous. Obi-wan didn’t know what he might do if he saw Zaann again, but his first inclination was to kill the man on sight. 

Anakin must have sensed the darkening of his Master’s aura, the malintent that began to root in his heart. He took his saber in his hands, running his hands over it’s ridges and edges as he took a pensive breath, willing himself to speak. 

“I hurt someone in class. I hadn’t meant to, but something came over me and I couldn’t stop myself. I nicked her neck, but I could have killed her... I think I wanted to.” Anakin said contemplatively. “What I did was inexcusable. I apologized but it didn’t matter since I had already hurt her. The teacher took my lightsaber and sent me to Master Qualturus’s office.” Anakin said, his already dim eyes becoming empty and hollow.

“Then he started- I thought he was trying to kill me. I couldn’t fight him without my lightsaber. I tried to knock him off balance, I thought maybe I could get away if I did. I took a chair and threw it at him, but he shoved it back at me so hard I couldn’t get away in time.” Anakin paused, trembling from the disclosure. 

“He grabbed me, he had his lightsaber pressed against my neck, I thought he was going to…” Anakin said, taking a heaving breath and wiping his eyes again. His brows furrowed and his mouth twisted into a frown. “But he just laughed, and let me go.” 

Obi-wan only felt partial relief at knowing what had happened. Mostly he itched that much more to draw his saber through Zaann’s neck, severing his head from his spine. It didn’t make sense for a Jedi Master, the lead director of the entire temple, to be so terribly sadistic. Aside from terrorizing his Padawan, he had sewn seeds of doubt and futility in Anakin’s soul. It didn’t matter that Anakin had been at fault to start, Zaann had no place to hurt Anakin or berate him in such a way. 

“I’m going to send a message to Coruscant, and then we’re going home.” Obi-wan declared. It wouldn’t due for him to confront Qualturus himself. The only way to deal with the issue was to go to the highest level of authority to begin with, so that Zaann could be dealt with accordingly. It wouldn’t be the best course of action to kill a member of the Order, no matter how badly Obi-wan wanted to. It would only serve to put his own rogue emotions on display, and that wouldn’t serve anyone. Though Obi-wan wished the man would push him, to give him an excuse to give life to his dark desire to end the man’s life himself. 

Anakin looked over to him in slight disbelief. “We’re going home?” 

“Yes, Anakin. We’re going home.”


	16. Magnetism

“Stay here while I make a quick call,” Obi-wan said in a warm voice intended to soothe his distressed Padawan who sat in a disembodied haze, distant and tattered, fatigue showing through his beautiful pale skin. 

Anakin was tired, his poor mind and body running on their last shred of resolve. That had to have been the source of the hallucinations, the exhaustion. This place however steeped in force energy, held elements that were hardly useful or conducive to healing. Zaann being the most instrumentally counterproductive, of course. 

Obi-wan felt the semblance of solace fall over his own turbulent rage laced fears as he set himself on a resolved path- a course of action that would take both him and Anakin away from the horrors that seemed to follow them everywhere. He would take his troubled Padawan home, where he could rest and recharge and become the self-assured, relentless, stubborn boy he had taught all these years. Or at least that’s what Obi-wan decided to believe. 

He would erase the doubt and harm that Zaann had inflicted on him mentally. He would help mend Anakin’s fears and wounds from that dreadful Sith planet. Obi-wan wanted to be everything to make him whole again. And maybe, just maybe, he might find himself whole somewhere along the way, too. Because however it might have happened, Obi-wan realized he had lost a piece of himself. 

Maybe it had been taken by the Sith, by the cold fingers of the dark being that had crept over his mind and body. Obi-wan shuddered, feeling a sickness root in his stomach as he clenched his hands and opened his palms up to examine. No trace remained of the darkness that had filled him. One would never suspect by looking at him how he had been a vessel to things so dark and unseemly. The things that he had seen and felt in response, had changed his mind and heart in ways he regretted. In ways that he didn’t want fixed. It hollowed out a part of his heart that only Anakin could fill. 

What scared Obi-wan the most was how he knew it had been inside him all along. The feelings, desires and wants- _needs_. They had rested dormant beneath his awareness, waiting to be discovered. The manner of how they came to light stirred another rise of anger in his belly, towards the Sith as much as himself. 

As much as Obi-wan had tried to forget, he knew he couldn’t. That wretched nightmare turned lurid dream. He should have never allowed himself, but it was too late now. The memory of it kept him bated, careful not to get too close. 

So simple touches seemed too much. A warm embrace, a chaste kiss, entirely inappropriate. The fact that Anakin needed such things made him afraid. He was afraid of himself, repulsed by his weakness, his lack of restraint. It was one thing to feel, quite another to give in as he had. Perhaps it had been a moment of weakness, an easy justification, a bargain he had made in the moment. But there was no justification at all. 

That dark world had taken something pure and wonderful and sullied it. It had twisted his desires selfishly, in ways he couldn’t reconcile. And the void remained inside him still. It yearned for a closeness, an intimacy that transcended anything he had ever felt before. 

What he would give just to see Anakin smile again, his eyes lit up with true happiness. Obi-wan’s heart ached at the prospect. At his core, that was what he longed for above all else. Only a large portion of his heart and desires wished that _he_ could give it all to him. That he could kiss all of his problems away, be the cure he needed. It was selfish, Obi-wan knew. 

And perhaps that was it, the truth to the ache in his chest. It was desire in all its forms, along with a hatred towards himself for feeling any of it. He loved Anakin, and it would do nothing but hurt the boy. It would forever remain unfulfilled. If he was going to stay true to his duty, to Anakin, he would need to come to terms with that. Anything else would be impossibly selfish. 

He could turn that desire into devotion, erasing every last bit of selfish inclination and exchanging it for duty and honor. He would forgo himself for the sake of Anakin. It was the only thing he could do. So he would. 

Forcing himself out of his conflicted deliberation, Obi-wan withdrew his comlink from his tunic, keying on the frequency to reach Master Yoda. Only something seemed to be wrong. The device didn’t appear to be making an uplink, let alone show any signal of connectivity at all. 

Obi-wan switched the device off and tried again to no avail. As he cased back out to their living quarters, Anakin looked back at him with an attentive expression. No doubt he could already tell something was amiss.

“Is your comlink working?” Obi-wan asked, seeing Anakin draw his communicator out and switch it on. 

“Try to reach the temple.” Obi-wan suggested. Anakin did as he was told, yielding the same results. 

“I’m not getting anything. It doesn’t even look like i’m getting a link off-world.” Anakin said, shaking his head. 

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Obi-wan said, a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

“So what then? Can’t we just make contact once we get off world?” Anakin suggested. 

“I suppose that’s what we’ll have to do.” Obi-wan said. “If you don’t have any other plans for the afternoon, I think we shall be taking our leave then.” He added in a refreshing tone, trying to leave the foreboding behind. 

Anakin’s eyes turned a shade hopeful, something else mixed up within them. “No, no plans.” He said, a small smile turning up at the corners of his lips. 

It brought a swell of relief to Obi-wan’s heart. The next thought in his mind was more of a plea to the force, to let him leave without seeing that dreaded Jedi Master on his way out. Somehow Obi-wan didn’t feel too hopeful in the prospect. 

Without even bothering to stow the tea set away or pack any of the scant belongings they had brought with them, Obi-wan and Anakin set out to make their leave of the temple. Obi-wan could feel Anakin walk closely to him, something fearful drifting through his aura. 

Stepping into the lift that would take them down to the entry hall, Obi-wan looked over at his Padawan, seeing the slightest sheen of sweat glisten on his brow. His pallor suggested the same as he wrung his hands nervously, an old habit. Anakin was dreadfully anxious, borderline fearful. 

Reaching past his comfort zone for the sake of his Padawan and without a word, Obi-wan stepped closer and pulled Anakin into his arms. He could feel the rigidity of the boy’s shoulders melt as he took a breath, the weight of his head pressing snugly into the crook of his neck. Anakin put his arms around his Master’s torso and held him tightly in return. 

Obi-wan didn’t have any reassuring words to say, although he was sure there must have been something for the circumstance. However he searched, he came up null. It didn’t seem to matter. He could feel Anakin’s tension melt away, his body becoming warm, pressing against him, totally surrendered- willingly vulnerable. Obi-wan’s heart fluttered.

A siren went off in his mind, a warning. He had crossed the line, gotten too close. Obi-wan pulled back gently from the embrace. Unable to remove himself entirely, their bodies lingered only inches apart, something magnetic pulling them near to one another. Obi-wan made the mistake of looking up into Anakin’s eyes, seeing what seemed on first glance, a shy reflection of what he felt in his own heart. 

Or, was it something much simpler? Twisted to seem like something else borne from his own selfish desires? That made the most sense, Obi-wan decided. Or it had been the most comfortable thing to choose to believe. Clinging to the cool logic of it made him feel better, even if just barely. 

“It’s all going to be alright.” Obi-wan said, taking too long between making eye contact and finding words.

He could feel how Anakin latched onto those words like a promise, their meaning well exceeding their however ambiguous, finite definition. He could see it in the way Anakin’s eyes looked deeper into his own. It meant so much more to him. It almost seemed like Anakin wanted what he wanted, for his Master to fix him, to make him whole again. To piece back the shattered puzzle of his soul, to erase all the tragedy and heartache. 

Or so Obi-wan felt. However things that remained unspoken, were often misunderstood. That didn’t change the way Obi-wan’s heart relished the idea. Beyond all things physical, he wanted to fix Anakin. He wanted for him to be happy. He wanted to be that happiness, the thing that would make him whole. 

Regardless of what Anakin’s thoughts truly were, at the very least he seemed comforted by the statement. 

“I promise.” Obi-wan said more seriously, his pulse quickening. Those words were more a vow than Anakin would ever realize, more than he could ever know. And if Obi-wan was effective, he would never know. He could never know the depth of how he cared for him. It was all that filled his heart, and all that tormented him. 

The lift stopped at the ground floor, the doors opening to the entry hall. Obi-wan gave Anakin a step of distance and took a breath, not realizing he had hardly breathed at all in such close proximity. He bled the tension from his body that had held taut in his muscles and pulled himself to focus. Curiously he saw Ankain’s stance become lax as the boy took a breath as well, his eyes averted to the floor below him. 

Obi-wan chose to look past the blustered demeanor of his Padawan, passing it off as nerves from their current situation. Fleeing a temple under such circumstances couldn’t have been casual affair. It could have easily been relief shaded with reservation in his Padawan’s eyes, reluctance or fear keeping his breath bated while their bodies had been close. Proximity may have been no factor to the boy at all. Nerves, anxiety, everything could be explained away under such things. 

Quickly Obi-wan stowed away such thoughts for later. “Now let’s get going, shall we?” He said reassuringly to the boy who stood beside him, so in need of support from his Master. Now, more than ever. Obi-wan could see it in his eyes, in the way his shoulders caved slightly from the weight of more than any boy his age should have ever had to bear. 

Not two steps out of the lift, a voice chimed throughout the hall with its insufferable grating whine that seemed to be engineered to test the limits of Obi-wan’s breaking point. And he was very near to it, he thought with dread. It was only made worse by the stiffening of Anakin’s shoulders, the way his pallor went a shade pale of his usual porcelain glow. 

It made Obi-wan want to scream and yell, to tear the man down to the very atoms of which he was comprised. How dare he touch his Padawan, how dare he lay a finger on him. Anakin was his to protect, and this man had hurt him. His heart demanded a blood sacrifice while his mind entreated him to keep his composure. 

“Master Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker, where do you think you’re going?” Zaann called after them, the sound of footfall nearing closer. 

Anakin faltered. Obi-wan took him by the hand, looking back into his eyes, restraining the fire that burned inside. “Ignore him, we have nothing to say to him.” Obi-wan ordered with mild strictness that Anakin followed with a look of relief. 

“Stop there, right now.” Zaann called after them again, finally reaching them before they made their way through the temple doors. Sensing the man close, and the dread it stirred in his beloved, Obi-wan stopped, turning on his heel and taking a stride forward to bring himself between his Padawan and the monster who had hurt him. 

Obi-wan could feel the hot anger roll off him, he didn’t even try to hide it. He had slain nine Sith single handedly. He wanted Zaann to fear him, to cower like the miserable excuse of a man he was. He wanted to crush him like a bug under his boot, with a twist of his ankle. 

“You will not take another step.” Obi-wan ordered coldly, seeing Zaann’s eyes light up with odd delight in response. 

Obi-wan sneered at him, a curl of disgust on his lip. “Aren't you supposed to be teaching a class, Master Kenobi?” Zaann’s cold violet gaze fell to Anakin, who stared listlessly at the floor again, wishing he might fade from sight if he tried hard enough. 

“And _you_ are supposed to be _in_ class.” Zaann said with a soft inflection, his voice just dancing around the edge of what Obi-wan knew to be a threat. 

Obi-wan stepped forward again, only mere inches away from the Zabrak. “We are leaving.” He stated, perhaps more to Anakin than to the miserable waste of life that stood in front of him. 

“Oh are you now?” Zaann said with mock surprise. 

“You are a _fraud_ and a _monster_.” Obi-wan ground out under his breath. “And once I get back to Coruscant, the rest of the Council will see you for the pathetic thing you truly are. You will never hold the rank of Master again, if I have anything to say about it.” He said, growing vehemence to his voice as he went on. 

No, if Obi-wan had anything to do about it he would already have ceased to draw breath. Kenobi relished the thought with a sense of longing. 

Zaann’s eyes lit up with amusement, a sly smile on the corner of his mouth. “Be my guest.” He said smartly, as if there was a joke that only he had been privy to understanding. “The temple is hardly a prison.” He added with a smirk. 

_Give me a reason, just one reason to cut you in half where you stand…_

Obi-wan clenched his fists, breathing deep through his nostrils, gritting his teeth. His restraint was a thin frayed strand, barely holding him together at all. 

Not wanting to turn his back to an enemy, Obi-wan did so with unease as he brought an arm around Anakin’s shoulders to guide the boy out. He wanted this to be the last they would see of Zaann, but for some reason he didn’t feel that was the case, no matter how badly he wished it were. Though he didn’t turn to look away, he could feel the man’s eyes burn into the back of his skull.

…….

_It’s going to be alright. I promise._

Those words repeated endlessly in Anakin’s mind, between thoughts of his own incompetence, and the fact that his hallucination meant he was most certainly going mad. However he taunted himself, a warmth accompanied those words, just like the warmth of his Master’s arms that had held him for that brief moment. He felt the pull between them, the one that he thought he must have been mistaking for something else... 

It didn’t matter. He didn’t deserve the man anyways, Anakin told himself. He would forever stand eclipsed by his Master’s beautiful shadow. And he would be happy there, admiring him, hating himself all the while. 

Hating himself for the cowardice that gripped him as Zaann approached them. Weak. Weak and thoughtless and so many other undesirable things. No, he didn’t amount to much at all. Like always his Master came rushing to the rescue, standing between him and the monster that might rip him to shreds if he had the chance. 

Somehow Obi-wan had taken his frozen Padawan and whisked him away. Anakin’s mind was still stuck on hating himself, feeling awfully inadequate while his Master seemed to be the exact opposite. Kenobi had waltzed away with his Padawan in arm, taking them both towards their ship which was settled down exactly where they had left it. 

Stepping aboard, Obi-wan shrugged the cloak off his broad shoulders, tossing it casually on the bench in the lounge of the small vessel. And the space hadn’t been much more than that bench, along with a small pop-up table that retracted from beneath it, and a few lockers adorning the opposite wall. 

The stale smell of metal and dead air filled the cabin. Anakin breathed it in reminiscently. He would always remember his first space voyage, from his homeworld of Tatooine to Naboo. That corvette had been much bigger and spacious than this small transport, but in the innermost cabins, it had smelled very much the same. If he could bottle the scent and take it with him, he would. 

Distantly the smell also reminded him of Qui-gon, his would-be Master. His sternness, his long mousy gray hair. Sometimes Anakin wondered how Obi-wan had lasted under his mentorship. The two of them were so opposite, or so it seemed. But in some ways they had been the same. Qui-gon had an open warmth about him that Obi-wan had shared. Only with Qui-gon it seemed automatic, default, with the cool sternness he could portray being secondary. 

With Obi-wan, the warmth had not at all been default, or automatic. It was something that the man seemed to reflexively hide, something that perhaps he felt he had to compensate for. For the first couple years of their Master-Padawan relationship, Anakin had felt its scarcity with a dull ache in his tiny chest.

Perhaps where Obi-wan painted strict reliance to the code and sternness to cover for his softer tendencies, Qui-gon had been mindful to be empathetic and kind to compensate for his self assured single mindedness that Anakin heard at times, could be quite problematic. Or so Obi-wan had said. 

It took some time, but eventually Anakin was able to see his Master for how he truly was. He had learned how to see the carefully managed heart of Obi-wan Kenobi. It was pruned and trimmed meticulously, careful not to let it grow out of control. Attachments would be dealt with systematically, finding the weeds that would sprout in the all too fertile soil of the man’s heart, trimming them down or pulling them out entirely. 

“Go ahead and cycle the primers, I’ll get us ready for take-off.” Obi-wan said routinely, turning the corner just beyond to get to work. 

The words pulled Anakin from his deeply entranced haze. “Yeah, I’m on it.” He said distantly, pushing through into the cockpit where he turned the primers, cycling them through as his Master had instructed. 

His mind was still back in the past, and in the not so distant past. What he had felt only moments ago pulled at his heart naggingly. Anakin reasoned against it. But he had felt it before, hadn’t he? There had been fleeting moments where he felt something spark between him and his Master. Anakin’s mind was all but blocking out the way Obi-wan had come back to himself that night when he had been buried deep inside of him already. 

He wanted to think it didn’t mean anything, that it had nothing to do with how Obi-wan really felt. _It wasn’t real,_ that’s what he said. He would have never done such a thing. He wasn’t capable of it. It was just a Sith twisted fantasy made to divide them, to ruin them from the inside out. That’s how Anakin had rationalized it.

But then in his quarters, in the heat of rising emotions he found himself beneath the man again. How his Master’s hands held tightly around his wrists, it was like an aphrodisiac. Anakin clasped one hand around his own wrist, his heart tickling lightly in his chest as he wished the man’s hand would hold him again. 

Another pang of unworthiness sent after the wanting, turning the longing to emptiness in an instant. He was nothing, no one. 

A flash of the monster staring him down shot through his mind again. There was something wrong with him. Fundamentally wrong. The wicked beast filled his senses. The thick stink of rotting flesh suddenly filled the air as a chill prickled down the back of his neck. He thought he might have felt the thing breathing on his shoulder, the soft guttural rasping of its lungs inflating and compressing. 

His body went stiff and his blood ran cold. _It’s not there,_ Anakin thought. There was no way it could be. But he found himself unable to convince himself entirely, and he was lacking the courage to look over his shoulder and see. 

_Weak, pathetic, useless._

It didn’t matter. He couldn’t hate himself enough to make his body move. He would sit and stew in it, making him feel that much more powerless. 

Then a hand fell on his shoulder making his body jump as he gasped involuntarily, the aftershock of tremors racking his body in the next moment. 

“I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Obi-wan said in a concerned voice, his face clearly pained. 

Anakin bit back tears. 

_Weak._

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. 

“Are you alright?” Obi-wan asked. Anakin could see his arm twitch towards him, but his Master pulled it back just as quickly. Iron restraint even for the simplest gestures. 

“Don’t worry about it, let’s just get out of here.” Anakin said, taking a large heaving breath. 

“Very well then,” Obi-wan said, looking no more reassured and highly skeptical. 

Anakin kicked the small transport to life and began to move away from the planet’s pull, slowly yet surely. As the ship gained altitude the atmospheric resistance became minimal, then ceased entirely as they glided out in the black open of space. It was eerily vast and empty to him, which was strange. Space travel was hardly his favorite past time but he had never felt it so ominous. 

Anakin began to punch in the coordinates for Coruscant, which had been largely from memory anymore. Though Obi-wan always insisted he double check to be sure. Getting lost in the uncharted regions was his least favorite hobby, so his Master assured him time and time again. Anakin was in the middle of doing just that when his Master interrupted his thoughts. 

“Just wait a second, I’m going to try to get ahold of Coruscant before we leave.” Obi-wan said. 

“Can’t we do that from hyperspace?” Anakin asked, only slightly annoyed before he looked over to see another concerned frown on his Master’s face.

“What’s wrong Master?” Anakin asked.

“I think something’s wrong with our com array. But that can’t be, can it?” He asked. Anakin could feel the man’s suspicion leaking through. 

Anakin tried the com, seeing it failing to connect to any external uplinks. It didn’t even acknowledge any uplinks even existed. “It has to be us. There’s no way everything else is down.” 

A grim expression fell over Obi-wan’s previously concerned look. “I don’t like this.” 

And Anakin understood his meaning. First their personal coms were down, now their ship’s com array failed to work, too. But it was crazy to assume any of it had been designed. Surely it had to have been just bad luck. Anakin could already hear his Master’s voice in his mind in response to his thoughts. 

_No such thing as luck._

And that meant for good and bad luck like. 

“It could be anything from a bad connection, fried circuit or a broken sensor. I can try and figure it out but it will take a little while. Fixing it would take even longer, depending on what’s wrong. I doubt this thing’s got an exo-suit in it, so if it is an external sensor we’ll have to put the ship down to get to it.” Anakin started, switching over to the mechanical part of his mind that dealt in sensors and capacitors.

Obi-wan put his hand to his face, running it down over his beard. It was something he did when he was distressed or perplexed. 

“No, that’ll take too long.” Obi-wan mused. “Go ahead and punch in the coordinates.” 

“I can work up some diagnostics while she’s running through hyperspace, if you want. See if it’s a simple fix or not.” Anakin suggested, itching to get to work a problem that he might actually be able to fix. 

Obi-wan looked at him with an amused expression. “I doubt I could keep you from doing just that even if I asked you to forget about it.” 

Anakin smiled at him, a genuine, somewhat bashful smile. Obi-wan glowed back at him. Keying in the coordinates he kicked the hyperdrive in gear, seeing the darkness slashed through with bleeding starlines that pulled tight into long streaks of glowing white light. 

Giddy to work on something, to feel of use again, Anakin sprung up from his chair at the helm and made his way through the back of the ship to a control panel. 

The feeling of having a task set before him gave him purpose. It nearly made him forget all the bad feelings, just for the moment. It made the words useless, helpless and weak all but cease from ruminating in his mind. It was a welcome remedy, even if the situation was shrouded by a veil of less than desirable circumstance. 

Rummaging around in the control panel, everything seemed to be connected as it ought to have been. Running a few other tests, he found all else in the array was optimally configured as well. That only left a few possibilities, all dealing with the external sensors, like he had feared. And setting down now, was not an option. 

He was headed back to the helm to report back to his Master when he stumbled over something, he wasn’t quite sure what it had been. As Anakin turned to right himself, he saw a figure standing over him. It was a familiar figure clothed in Jedi robes, violet eyes staring out at him with a sharp yellow hue spiking from the center. 

A snarling smile curled on the man’s lips, his unlit saber gripped tightly in hand. Anakin found himself frozen, sprawled onto his back helplessly, his voice lost somewhere between his lips and his throat. 

Zaann stepped closer, his blade igniting, the sizzling hiss of his saber coming to life as he held it over Anakin. He could feel the heat from the blade emanating, burning his skin uncomfortably with its heat. 

“You’re going to die. Your Master’s going to die. And it’s all your fault.” Zaann snarled, pulling the blade back as he made for one devastating blow. 

Anakin pulled his arms up to his face reflexively, a scream ripping from taut vocal chords. But nothing happened. 

“Anakin!” Obi-wan cried out, rushing to kneel beside him as he sat up, confused, looking around for the man who was now, nowhere to be found. 

_I’m going crazy for real this time,_ Anakin thought, dread hollowing him out. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Obi-wan said, his voice unsteady and frantic. 

“I’m tired, I think I just need to lay down,” Anakin said feeling a haze of fatigue fall over him.

“Tell me what happened.” Obi-wan insisted, his voice nearing anger.

What was he supposed to say? What was there to say? Just thinking about it made his head spin. Anakin moved to stand, but was caught again by some invisible wave or current that seemed to make standing impossible. 

“Now stay right there,” Obi-wan ordered sternly. 

“I’m _fine!_ ” Anakin barked back at him. 

Obi-wan looked at him silently, contemplatively, finding composure. 

“Just, just go back and pilot the ship. I’m going to rest.” Anakin said in defeat. 

Obi-wan’s eyes relaxed as his brow smoothed out. “What did you see?” 

“I didn’t-”

“Don’t lie to me. I can tell when you’re lying.” Obi-wan said in a calm manner, his stare suddenly becoming knowing, and somehow too invasive. It sent a shiver up Anakin’s spine.

“I saw Zaann.” Anakin said, submitting. 

Obi-wan remained silent, his gaze unchanging as he waited for Anakin to continue. He must have felt there was more. 

“He said we were both going to die and that it was my fault.” Anakin said, his shoulders slumping as he completed the admission, as if it had been held there heavily. 

“I see.” Obi-wan said with understanding, as if he were contemplating some Masterly advice to give in return. 

A few seconds passed in silence. “It could be a warning.” Obi-wan said in thought. 

Anakin snapped. “It could _mean_ i’m going _crazy!_ ” He shouted angrily. 

Obi-wan’s gaze softened with compassion. “You are many things. Crazy is not one of them.” He said, stating it as if it were fact. He reached out a hand to feel Anakin’s forehead. It sent another wave of shivers throughout his body. 

“Though I do think you should lie down for a little while.” Obi-wan declared. 

Anakin moved to stand, this time feeling substantially stronger than the last. “I actually think I’m okay,” he said, stretching out his limbs. “I just felt woozy for a second. I’m alright now.”

“You look feverish.” Obi-wan countered. 

“Shouldn’t you be piloting?” Anakin said, frustrated, trying to get his Master to pay attention to something else, but secretly not wanting him to go at all. 

Or maybe it wasn’t such a secret afterall. “It’s got an autopilot, you know.” Obi-wan said with a raised brow. “Lay down.” He said. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. Somehow Anakin felt himself unable to resist. 

Anakin laid himself down on the padded bench in the small lounge. Obi-wan wadded up his cloak as a pillow for him, smoothing a hand through Anakin’s dampened locks. He knelt by his Padawan in silence, stroking his hair, holding him. There was something in the silence, something unspoken yet loud all the same. It stirred the guilt, the unworthiness and shame. It coaxed confessions from the recesses of Anakin’s heart and mind. Suddenly they became too much for him to bear alone. 

“I’m sorry.” Anakin said with meaning, his heart breaking with the gravity of how he was so truly remorseful. 

Obi-wan turned to face him, still kneeling by the bench. His blue eyes held uncertainty, a measure of curiosity. “What could you possibly have to be sorry for?” He asked, genuinely lost to his meaning. 

Anakin thought how he could even put it into words. He didn’t know if it was possible. He was sorry for existing, for taking away Obi-wan’s choice of a Padawan, for being forced on him to begin with. He was sorry for being such a terrible student, for failing him time and time again. For being so weak in spite of all the effort his Master put into him. 

“I’m sorry you were forced to take me on. I know you didn’t want to.” Anakin said, his throat constricting around the last few words. 

“No,” Obi-wan said seriously, taking his chin in hand so that he couldn’t look away. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He said unflinchingly. “I mean it. I would never want someone else.” 

Anakin felt the pull between them as he had before, this time it was louder, more unavoidable, impossible not to notice. He saw a longing behind the kindness and tenderness. He wondered if it was real or imagined. After all, it was him he found at the heart of his desires, in the place where only sensation existed. No matter who it was, it would always be him. His perfect jewel blue eyes staring into his soul like nothing else existed. 

_I would never want someone else._ He hadn’t said he wouldn’t want another Padawan or apprentice. No, he would never _want_ someone else. Anakin looked back at him still, testing the idea. Obi-wan Kenobi, _wanting_ him. Anakin searched his eyes for the true meaning of what he had just said, feeling his Master’s hands still hold at his jaw, fingertips gently pressed against his flesh. 

He couldn’t believe it. He was afraid to. The cold void of doubt swallowed him up from the inside, pulling any hope from the horizon of his thoughts. 

As if to answer the harrowing uncertainty that took residence in Anakin’s chest, Obi-wan leaned forward to press a reassuring kiss to his cheek, just near the corner of his mouth. By some involuntary movement, or perhaps driven by the magnetism that pulled between them, Anakin's head turned to catch his Master’s lips on his own. 

And he didn’t pull away.


	17. Trap

The delicate feel of lips against his own lingered, warm and wanting. The jaw he held still in hand gave way, working languid and slow. Seemingly disconnected was the tongue that moved against his own leisurely as their mouths casually danced on one another, slow as molasses and just as sweet. 

Obi-wan found himself apart from time, in a place where his own cognition slowed to a halt. It was a mindless state where the man he had become was laid bare for all to see. And aside from the living force as his witness, Anakin was the sole spectator to see, to _feel_ his Master unravel. And Obi-wan wasn’t fully aware of it, how could he be?

He wished he could have been dreaming, and in the first few moments he thought he might have been. That dream before certainly had been real enough. And Anakin was here now, vulnerable under his touch, completely susceptible- helplessly so. 

Obi-wan felt his hand slip down from Anakin’s jaw to the soft flesh of his throat, resting there with a gentle firmness. Another hand tangled in his hair more roughly, quickening and deepening their kiss to a frantic, desperate pace. A torrent of desire washed through him, libidinous images to match, all of it thought too loudly.

Anakin hummed a heady moan into Obi-wan’s mouth as he began to tear at his Master’s clothes ravenously, his enthusiasm borne of his Master’s wanton thoughts falling haphazardly across their bond. Anakin lie there, open for him to take what he wanted, however he pleased. And the boy would let him. It was more than that- he hungered for it badly. Obi-wan could feel it, the hollow pit inside him, how he longed for his Master to fix it. To fill him and fuck him and use him in ways that shocked Obi-wan deeply to sense. 

None of it was anything like Obi-wan had fantasized. Anakin was broken, in ways he hadn’t even understood. The fractures ran deep in his core, through the whole of him. Taking advantage of his all too willing state seemed wrong. It struck a painful chord of guilt in him. He had already indulged far too much, and the only one to blame was himself. 

Obi-wan retreated from Anakin’s lips, pursing his own into a fine line as a serious furrow creased his brow. Anakin looked back at him with fearful uncertainty, sensing the sudden change in his Master’s aura with growing alarm. His hands that had been clawing for his Master’s flesh now hung in fist-fulls of Obi-wan’s garments. Obi-wan gently unwound them, holding Anakin’s hands thoughtfully in his own before placing them on Anakin’s chest. 

Obi-wan felt the inexorable veil of shame and sorrow fall over his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said, his words heavy with remorse. 

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked hesitantly, propping himself up to sit on the bench, his disposition growing near to tears, but not quite on the edge of. “I don’t understand.” 

He had been given something Obi-wan should have never allowed. And there was no taking any of it back, that was the bitter reality of it. “Anakin, you must understand why this could never be.” Obi-wan said somberly, feeling the words form in his mouth with a bitter taste. 

Anakin’s chest was heaving from the burden of too much emotion combined with his feverish state to start. Obi-wan could hardly stand to look at him. He didn’t think he had ever seen Anakin so heartbroken in his whole life. His shattered soul refracted through his eyes in that dove jewled tone of sapphire blue that seemed to dim a bit from shock. 

“You’re my Padawan,” Obi-wan said putting a hand to his forehead, feeling himself grow dizzy with distress. Even he was shocked with himself, all of his past transgressions mounted to this one moment. As he truly saw himself, he barely even recognized the man he had become. 

“And even if that weren’t the case, the code...” Obi-wan trailed off. The Code forbid so much. Even beyond his desires being expressed through action, it forbade him to even feel what he felt. The code would have him cut Anakin out of his heart. Inside Obi-wan had already known that was something he couldn’t do. But things couldn’t go on as they were, either. 

Anakin looked up at him, one last surge of hope lighting up his anguish ridden eyes. “But I love you,” Anakin said resolutely, stabbing Obi-wan through the heart with his declaration- his plea.

_And I love you, I always will._

And that was why he had to end the delusion before it had a chance to stunt the boy’s potential. Obi-wan feared it already had. He cursed himself, knowing he had to be better than this. He needed to be better than this. 

“Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Obi-wan said sullenly. “And if you can find it in your heart, please forgive me.” 

_Force knows I can’t forgive myself._

Anakin looked back at him fractured through and through. His sickly look only added to the feeling that Obi-wan was killing him. “You are going to be a great Jedi Knight. I refuse to let you throw it all away.”

Obi-wan could see Anakin think over the ramifications of their consummated love for one another, seeing it end only in their mutual demise. It did little to soothe the devastation that had fallen over his soul, but Anakin seemed to be able to come to terms. 

…….

Anakin could feel his heart being ripped to shreds by the calm level headed words spoken from lips that had kissed his only moments ago. The cold calculating logic Obi-wan kept always ready had ruined what had seemed too good to be true. 

“I understand.” Anakin said gravely.

And it had been- too good to be true. Anakin had let himself get lost in the most empty of hopes. Worst of all were the kisses he still felt on his warm swollen lips, the flash of images that had escaped his Master’s mind that would be forever imprinted in his. He would hold onto it as a memento. The sour memory of the few seconds where he thought his fairy tale might have come true. 

And it would torment him. But he knew what would happen if the council ever found out about his Master’s feelings for him, it would be the end for Obi-wan. He would be cast out of the order. 

_And if he were, all of our problems would be solved. There wouldn’t be the code to come between us._

Anakin put a stop to his selfish thoughts. It would hardly be the end of their problems, it would only solve one and open the door to many others. Being cast out of the order would kill his Master’s spirit- the order was the only thing he knew. He wasn’t like Anakin, who had remembered any other sort of life outside. And even for Anakin, it would be a soul shattering prospect. And besides, he didn't deserve the many anyway.

Obi-wan looked on at him with the same melancholy that filled his aura. “It will get better. Things will go back to normal and all of this will just be a... distant memory.” Obi-wan assured him. 

Anakin knew that would never be true. He knew his Master knew it, too. 

“I know.” Anakin said back, nodding his head. 

He would indulge his Master’s lie. It wouldn’t help to speak the truth of it, when the truth was the very thing that they were seeking to escape. 

Obi-wan leaned forwards and took Anakin in his arms in a sterile embrace. Anakin held himself back from fully giving himself over to the man’s arms like he wanted. He understood its purpose- a bow on the gift of rejection and heartache. Consolation prize. It felt like the embrace one might give when you were about to go away for a very long time, maybe even forever. The thought brought up traitorous tears to the surface. It was like when he had left his Mother on the desert sands of Tatooine, and somehow even worse. 

When Obi-wan pulled away from him, Anakin didn’t try to keep him longer. He let him slip out of his grip, which had grown considerably more desperate as Anakin began to silently weep onto the shoulder of his tunic. Obi-wan looked him straight on for a moment in silence, his eyes full of things he didn’t know how to say. 

Just as he might have said something, the ship lurched forward and down as it fell back to realspace, tossing Obi-wan across the small lounge area as Anakin was thrown from the bench into the corner of the bulkhead just beside it. The wrenching of metal sounded out simultaneously with the whirring of a struggling hyperdrive while the smell of ozone crept into the cabin. 

Obi-wan pulled himself up and rushed over to Anakin, but he managed to get back to his feet before his Master had the chance to help him up. Anakin was still feeling worse for wear but it went without saying that he was the tech sav between the two of them. And that meant it was time to get to work. Time to shove his feelings back into the dark corners of his mind so it could taunt him later. 

“I’ll go take a look at it,” Anakin said wearily, his red puffy eyes now the only proof of his tears. 

He walked dutifully around the corner to the control panel in question, which was still sparking and sending out plastic fumes into the small space. Waving the dense growing cloud of smoke away from the box, Anakin opened it and threw the switch, killing the power to the hyperdrive and the resulting arcing wires. 

Obi-wan hung around the corner in wait. “What’s it looking like?” His Master asked in a conversational tone, one a few shades lighter than he truly felt of course. 

“Not good,” Anakin answered, feeling faint from the smoke as he moved back to the bench to sit. 

No, not good at all. And even that was an understatement. No hyperdrive in the middle of open space _and_ no com? It was worse than bad. And whatever had caused it, the entire board was fried. They required not just a new part for the hyperdrive, but a whole new system. It was impossible to try to refurbish it without setting the ship down to get supplies. 

“Not good?” Obi-wan went to Anakin and stood with crossed arms, their previous conversation all but wiped from the fore of their minds, for the sake of their situation. 

“She’s fried.” Anakin said dryly. Perhaps it was the fresh heartbreak that was making him so bitter, but even still, they weren’t in the best of circumstances. “If we aren’t a stone’s throw away from a star system, we’re as good as-” 

“Well let’s look then, shall we?” Obi-wan interrupted him, not allowing him to finish vocalizing the thought. 

Obi-wan marched over to the helm and did a scan of their surroundings. Judging from the lack of dialogue that ensued, Anakin supposed his initial evaluation had been correct. 

His Master came back from around the bend, his face carefully controlled to emanate the Masterly calmness he felt he ought to portray however unnatural it seemed in the moment. “No system within sub-light distance. And it appears our distress beacon is missing all together. It could be an oversight, but somehow I’m beginning to doubt it.” He said grimly, his eyes distant and calculating. 

“No, with all that’s gone wrong, I’m beginning to suspect we were supposed to end up out here like this.” 

Suddenly Anakin saw another problem, this one he knew he could solve. “I can rig a beacon together from the com system, and a few other components I don’t think we’ll be needing.” Anakin said, getting to his feet and setting to the task before his Master replied with anything at all. The man seemed to be in a trance of sorts, his eyes cast out in the distance, trained on nothing but his own thoughts that lingered between the various causes of their eventual demise. 

“Yes, yes do that.” Obi-wan said well after the fact. 

…….

Anakin set to the job of building a small emergency beacon while Obi-wan stewed over the facts. First of all was the obvious dislike Zaann had for both Obi-wan and his Padawan. But it transcended that. With what Zaann had done to Anakin, the still broken ribs and bruises to prove it, Anakin was a serious threat to him- living proof that could walk before the council to testify against him. 

Obi-wan should have suspected more when both their coms failed to work. He should have decided to put the ship down to repair their own array. He had been so caught up in his emotions, the anger and fear from what had happened to Anakin, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. And now look where that had gotten them- stuck somewhere on the wrong side of nowhere, dead in their tracks and no way to get any message out. The temple didn’t even know to expect them home early. And Zaann had been the only one of rank who had known they were departing. And there was the issue of Anakin’s sickness and hallucinations, which Obi-wan now suspected could very well be the result of some poison or toxin willfully administered to him by some unknown method. 

It could be weeks before they were even suspected missing at all. They would die long before that with such a limited supply of water, even if they meditated to slow their own metabolic processes. And maybe that’s what Zaann wanted. Yes, they had fallen into a trap- one constructed specifically for them.

As much as Obi-wan wanted to believe that he was jumping to conclusions, that he had been making irrational connections between things that weren’t connected at all, he knew better. Perhaps one thing that no one had counted on was just how ingenuitive Anakin truly was. Sure they could take their distress beacon, but Anakin could construct another. And if anyone had done enough research into designing their demise, they might have realized that small fact. 

Obi-wan peered around the corner of the small cabin to see Anakin elbow deep into one of the various panels, finding salvage and components for his project. Anakin was more than competent, Obi-wan had no doubt that he would finish the task with time to spare. They would switch on the beacon and wait for whatever ship nearby happened to catch their distress signal. 

That was another uneasy unknown factor. But whoever, or _whatever_ picked them up, Obi-wan was confident in their ability to handle the situation. Often times ships donning distress signals were prime targets for pirates or thugs, searching over the wreckage. If they were lucky they would run into beings who had a sense of morality about them. 

Sure, they could have the ship, they could have anything they wanted in exchange for safe passage to the next world with a spaceport. Even more if they could take them all the way to Coruscant. The Council would allot the crew compensation for their troubles. Such promises might be the only thing that held the darker inclinations of sentient beings at bay. 

Still, promise of payment was not the same as credits in hand. And if their word wasn’t good enough, whether bounty hunter, scrapper, pirate or slaver, they would all find some way to make you worth their time. Whether it were rendered via credits, services, or other means. Obi-wan thought through the worst case scenarios with dread. Maybe dying in the middle of empty space wasn’t so bad after all. 

_Get it together Kenobi,_ he grumbled internally, chastising himself. That was no way to be thinking. The force always had its will, its purpose. Obi-wan preferred to think that it involved him and his Padawan alive and for the most part, unscathed. Whatever was thrown at them, they would survive. They would get back home, report to the council. Every block in their path was another shred of evidence against Qualturus. No matter how inconvenient or difficult things became, in the end when push came to shove, there was little that could stand between Obi-wan and his goal. 

Sensing his Master around the bend looking over at him, Anakin turned to him. “I’ve got everything I need. Shouldn’t be a few minutes before I've got it configured and ready to program to broadcast.” Anakin said, his face a damp sickly shade, tinted blue from the panel lights casting their cold glow onto his tepid skin. 

Obi-wan pulled from his inner world as Anakin addressed him. “Very good,” Obi-wan said with dull enthusiasm. He found his spirit running dry and empty, as he was becoming aware of just how emotionally fatigued he was. He was awake and alert, but his soul was tired, like a plug had been pulled right out of him. 

Obi-wan turned to retreat to the helm, having not much else to say as Anakin set out again, sitting on the cold durasteel floor surrounded by open panels and their dim light that spilled out over him. He sat with a ring of parts and components around him like a child might with their toy cruisers and small miniature bantha figurines. But the look on his face had been all too serious to be that of a child’s. 

But Anakin was not a child. He had grown into a man. An intelligent, conflicted, passionate man. Obi-wan felt himself grow more fatigued and tired at the thought. Yes, Anakin was no longer a child. But that made all of his waywardness that much more condemning. The fracture that ran through him, Obi-wan could still see it as if it were made of broken red glass. Shards of his soul flaying him in their many pieces, cutting him to the core, rivulets of blood drenching him inside. 

How many of those wounds existed because of him? Obi-wan thought about it, wallowing in dread. He knew it was speculation, and useless at that. _The only thing that mattered was the moment_ \- his late Master reminded him from beyond the grave. 

Anakin came from around the corner, breaking him from his futile rumination. “I’ve got it Master, it’s ready to go.” Anakin said proudly. 

“It’s broadcasting?” Obi-wan asked, seeing the silent red flashing light blinking out from the glob of metal and wire. 

“Yeah,” Anakin answered back, setting the part delicately on an empty flat surface beside the pilots chair. 

“What’s it transmitting?”

“General Jedi distress signal.” Anakin answered simply. “Why?” 

“With our circumstances, I wonder if we want to appear as Jedi, or not,” Obi-wan noted open-endedly. Depending on who came across their path, it could be a help or a hindrance. Either way it wouldn’t matter, in the end, he reminded himself. Obi-wan couldn’t understand why he was so hung up on the question of who might come across them. 

But then the answer to that was obvious, too. If Zaann had set them up like this as it appeared, and he _hadn’t_ looked over Anakin’s technological genius, they could be falling deeper into the trap. Typically such things wouldn’t have bothered him much, but with Anakin seeming to be the focal point of the man’s madness, Obi-wan wasn’t interested in seeing what the man might have planned further. 

“Do you want me to reprogram it Master?” Anakin asked, aware of his oversight with a tinge of self criticism. 

“No, no it’s alright.” Obi-wan said, accepting that they very well might be staring into the jowls of a beast without knowing it. Or, it might be nothing at all. Zaann might have truly looked over Anakin’s talents. Somehow, Obi-wan doubted it was so. 

Anakin collapsed wearily into the co-pilot’s chair beside him. Beads of sweat condensed on his brow. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes lidded in exhaustion. His limbs fell limply around him.

“Why don’t you go back and lie down while we wait for our shining white knights to come to our rescue?” Obi-wan said with words that didn’t match the worry in his voice. 

“I’ll just sit here for a bit, if you don’t mind Master.” Anakin said, his voice sounding more labored than it ought. “I’ll keep you company so… you don’t get… bored.” Anakin said, his words trailing off as he seemed to drift from consciousness. 

Obi-wan began to grow fearful for his Padawan. His mind ran over all the different ways he could have been poisoned again. It seemed to be a slow acting toxin, perhaps ones that induced visions, if the visions hadn’t been inspired by the force itself- poorly heeded warning signs. 

There was no way to help someone who had been poisoned in the middle of nowhere, not with the simple contents of a medkit. He would be reduced to his own limited healing abilities to keep him alive if it came to that. Obi-wan didn’t like the idea of Anakin’s life being quite literally in his hands in such a dire situation, for better or worse. 

“Anakin,” Obi-wan said, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving him a light jostle. 

“Master?” Anakin replied drunkenly, rolling his head on his shoulder in Obi-wan’s direction. 

“Anakin, open your eyes.” Obi-wan said sternly. 

“They’re so heavy, I'm just going to close them for one minute. Just one minute.” Anakin spoke in a voice that waned on barely any breath. His eyes were circled with dark purple near the shade of his bruises while his skin turned a pale ashen tone. 

“No, Anakin you have to stay awake. I think- I think you may have been poisoned.” Obi-wan said in a voice that negated most of the panic and alarm that was coiling in his chest. 

This time Anakin gave no answer. His chest still rose and fell rapidly but his head was slumped over, no life in him to move a muscle. Obi-wan looked him over, his body laden with a sinking helplessness that wove itself into his bones. No, it had been there from the start but he had been trying to ignore it. Everything he was set up against, all the ways he was failing. Now with Anakin badly sick, poisoned, whatever it was, it made him fully aware of the scope of his failings. 

And the helplessness exchanged for panic, as he found himself toggling between the two as each second passed, making time slow down excruciatingly. 

“Anakin, wake up!” Obi-wan said with a firmer voice, but yielded no results. Placing a hand on his forehead, he felt the boy burning up, fighting off a menace of a fever. If there was anything he could do, it would be to at least treat the symptoms. Wanting to feel some semblance of control in the situation, Obi-wan decided to do just that. 

Gently Obi-wan hoisted Anakin from the co-pilot's chair and carried him back to the bench in the back of the ship. His febrile body felt like cot coals against him. Anakin’s tunic had been nearly soaked through with sweat, uncomfortably damp. 

Obi-wan loosened his collar and unlaced his boots, pulling them off gently, and then his socks afterwards. Going to the small closet of a fresher he wrung a couple of rags under cool water and placed them on Anakin’s feet, another at his neck and forehead.

Next he set out to find the ship’s medkit, which was nowhere to be found. Instead he was forced to settle on the smaller emergency med pack that was secured to the underside of the pilot’s chair. As he ripped the bag open and began to rummage through for some fever reducer, bacta, anything he could get his hands on, a flash of light burst in the near distance. It was the typical flash one would see as a ship exited hyperspace, and shortly after it, one did appear. Though it was not the kind he had hoped to see. That being said, it could have been worse, too. 

It was obvious from the markings and make of the machine that it wasn’t a harmless freighter. Neither did it seem like a slave transporting vessel. It was much smaller, a ship made for quick travel, a few blaster cannons and miscellaneous guns attached to its sides in an aftermarket fashion. Not big enough to be a pirate ship- no room for spoils and plunder. No obvious or overt governmental affiliation by the looks of it. 

If they hadn’t dismantled some of their own ship’s components, Obi-wan would have been able to scan the ship for lifeforms. Though he guessed there would be very few. Perhaps one, two or three. No, what he was looking at was more likely than not the ship of a bounty hunter. 

Were they there to assure their deaths? To make sure they were never to be found? Obi-wan wasn’t naive enough to believe their sudden appearance was happenstance. They could blast them into their component atoms in the silence of space and no one would be the wiser. Obi-wan’s blood chilled at the thought. 

Then he reached out, trying to feel out the intentions of the beings within the opposing ship. As much as his mind screamed at him with worst case scenarios, he didn’t feel they were there to shoot them to smithereens. There might have been dark intent, but it was much less elementary or brutish. It was the kind that smiled at your face and stabbed you in the back. 

Beings with dubious intent, Obi-wan felt much more comfortable with. He could at least read them to a point. And such beings, when they lacked force ability, were more transparent than they would ever know. Usually you could find them in the political arena, or in the shadier bars of the Coruscanti underworld. 

Obi-wan knew how to play their games to his advantage, though he disliked employing such devious behavior himself. There was a strict moral line that decided when such measures were necessary, and when he had to, he was good at it. However the types that resorted to it often rarely had any morals to speak of. 

He could see the ship drift towards them, sublight drives on low power as they moved to dock with their small transport. _Best to play the fool,_ Obi-wan thought as he turned their small ship in kind, to allow their new acquaintances to dock easier. _Play the part- happy recipient of much needed aid._ There wasn’t anything else he could do, especially not with an incapacitated Padawan in need of medical attention. 

The bounty hunter’s ship eclipsed their own, as locking clamps extended from both sides, sealing a small passageway between them. Hastily Obi-wan moved back to Anakin. There hadn’t been anything worth while in the med kit to treat him with, so he tossed it aside. 

Obi-wan knelt by Anakin’s side. “Anakin, please wake up,” he begged in futility. 

He could hear the activation of the docking way as it filled with atmosphere. It was time to meet their rescuers. And clearly, Anakin would be a mere stage prop to the occasion. Obi-wan sighed, hoisting him up into his arms again as he went to walk across the merged airlock, into enemy territory. He prayed the force would be with them.


	18. Unlocked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All! Happy Friday!  
> See you again soon!
> 
> Blu3

Obi-wan hadn’t been able to see the face of the person who stood opposite them as the door to the other ship gave way. He wasn’t sure if there had been just one, two, or even more on the other side. Or perhaps he had been able to see, and just didn’t recall.

It wasn’t like him to be so forgetful, but the aching bruise on the back of his skull told him a head injury was most likely the cause. His body still tingled with uncomfortable pins and needles as he came to- the tell-tale sign he had more likely than not been hit with a stun blast at first contact with their supposed rescuers. 

With the weight of Anakin in his arms, he must have fallen hard. It had to have been the source of the head injury. And a concussion was the last thing that he wanted to have to deal with. He might have had some other useful information to help him, but he couldn’t recall a single shred. The last thing he remembered was carrying Anakin towards the docking airlock. And after that? Nothing. 

To Obi-wan it had been seamless- holding his unconscious student in his arms, the one who had been frightfully ill. Next thing he knew, he blinked his eyes open painfully to the darkness of the room around him, his head throbbing. His hands and ankles were bound together in shackles- a less than optimal state to find oneself in. Though he supposed it could be worse. It would _always_ be worse. 

In an attempt to sense what surrounded him he reached out with the force, only to be snapped back with an icy shock that lanced through him at his wrists and ankles, arcing through his body with terrible pain. The startled cry that escaped him was met with a whimper off in the distance. 

“Anakin?” Obi-wan called out, his voice laden with distress. 

“Master,” he answered back, voice trembling with fear, painted with fatigue from the sickness that no doubt still plagued him. 

“Anakin,” Obi-wan breathed with relief. “Thank the force,” he added, with only a fleeting after thought that perhaps he shouldn’t be so thankful yet. They were in a dark room, bound and severed from the force, still aboard a ship that was traveling through hyperspace from the feel of the durasteel hull he was propped up against. And Anakin was sick, in desperate need of medical attention. 

Suddenly a blue flash could be seen from across the room as Anakin cried out, “ _AH!_ ” Obi-wan could see in that fleeting second that Anakin was propped up against the hull on the opposite side of the small chamber.

“It’s no use.” Obi-wan said with defeat. “The only way we’re getting out of these things is if someone lets out.” 

“What happened? Where are we?” Anakin said, rising panic in his voice. 

“Calm yourself Padawan, giving into fear won’t help us out of here.” Obi-wan said in a soothing tone. “And to be quite honest, I don’t know where we are. You fell unconscious at the helm after you finished constructing the beacon. And judging from the response time of our _rescuers_ , it worked like a charm.” Obi-wan said, more biting than he realized.

There was a pause before Anakin spoke. “I’m sorry Master, I should have reconfigured it like you wanted.” He lamented. 

“It’s not your fault, besides I’m certain it wouldn’t have mattered. I didn’t even get a look at whoever it was before they stunned me outright. Whoever picked us up had been looking for us. They knew we would be stalled out around that point.” Obi-wan said, his mind running through the ever narrowing list of possible perpetrators. 

“Zaann was the only one who knew we were leaving.” Anakin said emptily. 

“I know.” Obi-wan agreed grimly. 

“I’m scared, Master,” Anakin said, his voice small, ever wrenching Obi-wan’s heart into pieces. 

Obi-wan felt the reflexive need to go to him and hold him, but doing such would be impossible in their circumstances. And now, the quite literal restraints were the only thing holding him back from doing just that. 

“I am too, but you have to be brave. We both do. And true bravery is always a willful answer to fear. It doesn’t mean anything without it.” Obi-wan said, wishing he could steal away all of Anakin’s hurt and pain yet again, erase the fear that would no doubt turn to more hurt and pain in the future. But the only thing he could give was verbal encouragement, and it was the one thing that Anakin rarely responded well to. 

“We’re going to get out of this place.” Obi-wan amended, reassuring his Padawan as well as reminding himself. They had faced much worse straits back on Kraysiss Two. Obi-wan would cut down whoever stood in his way to keep Anakin safe. Just because he felt a spark of vengeful sentiment, well that hardly changed the fact that what needed to be done would be done. The technicalities of how he ought to feel about it could be dealt with later. But honestly, wasn’t he a long way past caring about the particulars of the Jedi code? He had given up on that the first time he had allowed himself to go too far. 

With a jolt Obi-wan felt the ship abruptly drop back to realspace. Anakin gave a startled whine in response. “Breathe, Anakin.” Obi-wan said as Masterly as he knew how. “It’s going to be alright.” 

“You don’t know that.” Anakin answered so quietly Obi-wan had to strain his ear to listen. 

“I know that I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” Obi-wan responded quickly, the possessiveness in his voice shining through brighter than intended. His heart fluttered in his chest. The truth was larger than that though. He knew he would kill everyone on this vessel just to keep Anakin safe. He would do it with a wry smile on his face- because how dare anyone try to even touch his precious Padawan? _His_ Anakin?

Obi-wan might have tried to curb the avaricious pull in himself, but found himself not caring to even try. Yes, there were some things he wouldn’t- _couldn’t_ allow himself. He knew he couldn’t touch Anakin in the ways his flesh wanted so badly. But just because he couldn’t touch him, didn’t mean he wasn’t his. It didn’t change the fact of how he was absolutely on fire for him. He would raze an entire city to the ground in exchange for Anakin’s life. 

For a moment, Obi-wan was glad that they were both cut off from the force, from the bond that held them together. Otherwise Anakin would have been able to feel every bit of his Master’s forbidden thoughts.

The ship began to shake against the atmospheric resistance as they made for landfall. Where? Obi-wan couldn’t say for sure, but it was far beyond a reasonable assumption that somehow Zaann was involved. To what end was impossible to say, but for nothing good. 

“I don’t feel good Master,” Anakin groaned.

“Just breathe, it’s going to be alright. We’re landing some place, that means we’ll be able to get away and get help.” Obi-wan said, hiding his own fear more aptly. He was afraid for Anakin’s sickness, it was the only thing he was mostly powerless in saving him from. 

The ship rocked and creaked as the landing thrusters came online, slowing their descent to the land below. Finally with a jolt and a thud the ship landed on even ground, perhaps a landing pad from the sound of it. 

They sat in silence for what felt like an hour after that, Obi-wan checking in on his Padawan every few minutes to be sure he hadn’t fallen unconscious again. Much to Obi-wan’s relief, Anakin however unwell he was feeling, was able to stay awake. 

Finally, Obi-wan heard some footfall approaching with a measure of dread. It was better to get on with it, he supposed, that way Anakin could get the medical attention he needed. And just when Obi-wan thought there would be no more surprises, he found himself due for another. 

The door gave way and the light in the small room hummed to life. Blinded by the sudden glaring brightness, it took a moment for Obi-wan’s eyes to fully adjust but once they did his eyes fell to a familiar figure, not at all the one he had expected. 

Jerot stood there for a moment, hovering in the doorway. His expression looked uneasy, like he might have had a sour stomach. In the next moment Obi-wan switched his gaze to Anakin, who looked over at the newcomer as if he were a ghost instead of living flesh and bone. 

Before Obi-wan thought to ask him for assistance, though he was beginning to suspect the chance of that happening was slim to none, another set of steps came marching down the hallway to where they lie, bound and in wait. He could see Jerot’s shoulders stiffen at their sound. 

Jerot stepped aside to make way for his Master who strode in with a sinister look of triumph on his face. His Padawan seemed to cower away from him. Looking at him with a more careful eye, Obi-wan noted the bruises on the boy’s arm along with what looked like a trail of nail marks on his neck, still fresh with light hues of purple rising beneath them. As if he hadn’t harbored enough resentment towards the man to begin with, he seemed to find another untapped well of it just below the surface. 

“Well well, Master Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker. It seems you never made it to Coruscant, what a shame.” Qualturus spat mockingly. 

Obi-wan glowered, sneering at Zaann with unfaltering eye contact. He didn’t understand what the man’s angle was, nor how someone so despicable rose to power within the Order to begin with. Obi-wan didn’t know much about him at all, other than the fact that he liked to hurt those he held rank over, Padawans specifically. Who knows what else the man was capable of, or what else he had already done. 

Obi-wan thought how much he would like to hurt Qualturus in all the ways he had hurt Anakin, and Jerot too for that matter. Then he would kill him, because he wanted to. Obi-wan knew that intention shone in his eyes brightly, and he didn’t try to hide it.

In the tense silence Qualturus began to laugh hysterically. Jerot stared at the floor, unwilling to look at Kenobi or Anakin as his Master lorded over them. “Oh, Kenobi, still so fierce in spite of your obvious disadvantage.”

Obi-wan willed himself to put aside his murderous desires for the sake of diplomacy. Just for now, at least. It was difficult, and near impossible, but he would be damned if he wasn’t able to fake nearly anything to a fault. “I don’t understand what you want with us, Qualturus. Aren’t we all on the same side?” Obi-wan said, his voice carefully level. 

Zaann laughed even harder for a moment, the sound well past grating on Obi-wan’s nerves. From across the room he could see Anakin’s chest rise and fall at a quickening pace as his eyes darted nervously, glossing with tears. The poor boy was terrified. He had said before he thought Qualturus had set out to kill him, and with circumstances being what they were, Obi-wan wasn’t entirely convinced otherwise. 

Still silent, Jerot stood slightly behind and to the side of his Master. Obi-wan searched out his eyes for a chance to stir him to action, but it seemed highly unlikely in the wake of what seemed a fresh attitude adjustment from his Master. 

Zaann’s laughter slowed as he wiped his eyes of the tears that collected there. “Oh, you are one for a good laugh, aren’t you?” He said, amused. 

“I’m not laughing.” Obi-wan ground out. “Let us go Zaann. Let us go, and I’ll petition the council to go easy on you.”

“Oh, yes. You think you’re so powerful, don’t you? Obi-wan Kenobi, the ever important Jedi, and his brat Padawan the _Chosen One._ Yes, don’t _you_ have delusions of grandeur?” Zaann laughed sarcastically. 

“Importance has nothing to do with anything. You know the code, none of us are more or less than anyone else.” Obi-wan said, shaking his head. He couldn’t understand the man, not his motives or his ways. Was he jealous? Did he feel sidelined by the Order? If Obi-wan could understand him, he might be able to talk his way through without bloodshed. Not that he minded spilling any of Qualturus’s however. 

“Oh yes, the ever sacred code. You know as well as I do that it was made to be broken. The _code_ is broken.” Zaann proclaimed. 

Obi-wan’s heart slammed in his chest. Zaann’s words seemed to accuse him in all the ways that seemed impossible. Was he really so transparent? But he was, wasn’t he? Just moments earlier he had been glaring at the man with open hate in his eyes- hardly something a Jedi should be given to, and very much against the code. Only Obi-wan had been left to accuse himself over his more serious grievances, ones that would be impossible for Zaann to know of.

But the code being broken? Obi-wan might have agreed on some level, but now was not the time to discuss such things. It didn’t help that he knew his late Master would have agreed with the sentiment. 

“I don’t know what you mean. The code is what a Jedi lives his life by. It’s at the heart of what being a Jedi means.” Obi-wan said in his best authoritative voice, even though he damned himself as much as Zaann with those words. 

“The code, hell- the entire Order is flawed.” Zaann snarled, a sharp change of tone that made both Anakin and Jerot flinch.

“That’s something you should take up with the council. I don’t see what any of this has to do with that.” Obi-wan said blandly, not knowing the vein he had struck in the unstable Zabrak that became even more unhinged before him. 

“Oh, but it has everything to do with you. Well, not you, _him_.” Zaann snarled, pointing a finger towards Anakin who tried hard to maintain his composure. 

Obi-wan’s voice and expression hardened as he sensed a threat towards Anakin, which was highly unacceptable. “I beg your pardon?”

“The _Chosen_ One. Do you even know what that means?” Zaann said, his eyes wild. 

“Of course I do. It is said that he will bring balance to the force. But the ancient mystics and their prophecies are too ambiguous to be taken literally.” Obi-wan said in a textbook manner. 

Yes, Obi-wan knew about the Jedi prophets all too well. His own Master had been unhealthily obsessed with them for years. Obi-wan had been his unwilling yet compliant assistant researcher. Qui-gon had mulled over the holocron of ancient prophecy, and had even claimed to be given his own visions from time to time. Qui-gon had learned just how deceptive those visions could become in shaping the future. Obi-wan had learned to avoid them. Such knowledge never seemed to be beneficial, nearly quite the opposite. And such things as seeking knowledge of the future, had been known to lead to the Dark Side. 

Zaann’s face had turned a shade darker, his eyes even more wild. “Do you understand what bringing balance to the force _means?_ ” 

“It could mean many things.” Obi-wan said in a nondescript tone. He felt he was starting to understand the man, and it was admittedly frightening. Dealing with ideological fanatics were the worst sort to have to reason with, as they were usually well past reason to begin with. 

“It means ending the Order as we know it! It means a culling of the light, and a resurgence of the dark. Balance is the last thing the Galaxy needs.” Zaann proclaimed. 

“The Force has its will. And in the end, if it seeks balance, it will find it. It’s foolish to stand in the way, or even try to shape it.” Obi-wan said with reason, realizing with some measure of panic that there was probably nothing he could say to change the man’s mind. 

Perhaps Anakin was right, he had intended on his death. But why drag it out? What was the point? Just to preach to them, to justify his actions? 

“So what then? What’s your grand plan?” Obi-wan said, sneering with disgust yet again. 

Zaann smiled darkly. “My plan? I’ve thought about it quite a lot, actually. I’m glad you asked.” 

“Did it involve poisoning an innocent Padawan? Because if so, congratulations.” Obi-wan snarled, seeing Anakin’s pallor turn to a sickly ashen shade, his expression equally dour.

“Poison? No, it wouldn’t suit my needs.” Zaann said, interested suddenly in Anakin’s deteriorating state. He walked over towards the boy who struggled away from his touch.

“Don’t you dare touch him!” Obi-wan growled, wrestling his binds in futility. Anakin craned away as Zaann touched his forehead lightly. 

“He’s burning up,” Zaann noted, scanning the boy over. Tugging on the shoulder of his tunic, Qualturus revealed Anakin’s upper chest which was an even darker shade of ashy gray, with darker near black rivulets cutting through it in a dendritic pattern. Obi-wan looked on him with sudden grave realization from across the room. 

No, it wasn’t poison. He had been so blind not to realize what it was earlier. Somehow, Anakin had been infected with the same Sith virus that he had back on Kraysiss Two. Only whatever Anakin had was significantly slower acting, not quite the same thing that had eaten him up in a matter of hours. Perhaps he had been scratched and tainted blood had been passed between them, Obi-wan reasoned. Anakin had changed his bandages enough for that to be a possibility. 

Still continuing his inspection of the boy, Zaann pulled Anakin’s tunic away almost completely, meeting minimal resistance from the sick and bound Padawan. Obi-wan saw with horror, the black spread that began to cover his lower torso, branching out in dark veins throughout his body. “My my, this looks strangely familiar,” Zaann said in an interested tone. 

“Nanites,” Obi-wan nearly begged, as much as he didn’t want to be so reduced. Zaann hooked a finger into Anakin’s leggings and pulled down to reveal his hip, entirely blackened by the virus. Obi-wan wanted to strangle him, rip his arms from his torso just for touching him. 

“He needs nanites, it’s the only thing that will kill the virus.” Obi-wan said urgently. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. I don’t need him alive for _that_ much longer…” Zaann deliberated. 

Obi-wan’s murderous rage turned to icy fear in his veins. His stare went to catch Jerot’s with frantic desperation. The boy averted his gaze shamefully. 

“You’re going to let an innocent boy die!” Obi-wan cried out. 

Zaann turned slowly to face Obi-wan, a strange placid expression on his face. “I’m hardly the one who infected him now, am I?” He took a step away from Anakin, and towards Obi-wan. 

“No, you did.” Zaann said, raising a finger to accuse him. “And all medical reports and images, that I’ve scoured quite extensively mind you, say nothing about any infected bite marks or scratches.” 

Obi-wan felt the tenacity bleed from him as his blood turned even colder. Poor Anakin sat opposite him, silent streams of tears running down his ashen face, his features contorted around a string of sobs as what remained unspoken loomed over the both of them. 

“I have to say Kenobi, I’m surprised. I never thought someone as high and mighty as you would stray so far. And you would call _me_ a monster.” Zaann said, the look on his face noting that he was well entertained by the circumstances. “Hypocrisy abounds.” 

“You _are_ a monster.” Obi-wan said with little vehemence, his stomach feeling like he wanted to vomit while his body trembled. He could feel the uncomfortable cold sweat that broke out across his body, dampening his clothes. This was all just a bad dream, there was no way this could be happening. 

“I almost regret that I’ll never get to see the council’s reaction to knowing you fucked your own Padawan.” Zaann laughed with disbelief. 

Tears broke out from his eyes and he shook his head as he watched over Anakin’s sobbing form. “No,” he breathed out, protesting the reality of his waking nightmare. 

_No, I never- It wasn’t, it wasn’t real- I couldn't_

But he had. Obi-wan felt like all the life had been drained from him. He saw Anakin hunched over himself with his knees hugged tightly to his chest across the room, quietly sobbing. And suddenly Obi-wan found he hated himself just as much as he hated Zaann, if not more. Zaann had left bruises and broken ribs, but he had done so much worse. Who was the monster? Obi-wan felt himself choke on bitter tears as he remembered with sick horror how Anakin had writhed and struggled against him, how he cried out in pain. How even after he came to, he didn’t stop. 

Who was the monster? 

“At any rate, you can take solace in knowing that he is far from innocent.” Zaann amended, his amusement waning out. But for Obi-wan time had stopped, his mind damning him with too many images and memories than his stomach could handle. 

Obi-wan looked up at Zaann with his teary bloodshot eyes with more than a healthy amount of venom. “I’ve seen things, the things that he will do if he’s allowed to live. He will bring down the entire Jedi Order single handedly, slaughter thousands.” 

Obi-wan shook his head with disbelief. “Anakin would never…” _He’s kind and perfect and beautiful... and I raped him_. Obi-wan thought, his heart broken and shattered to dust inside of himself. 

“That is what balance means. And he will exact it himself.” Zaann said gravely. “Unless someone stops him. Unless I stop him.” 

“If the force wants balance, killing him isn’t going to change anything.” Obi-wan said, frantically trying to force himself to refocus. If he couldn’t negotiate with Zaann, Anakin as well as himself were going find their deaths. It was nearly impossible to wrench the terrible images from his mind, but he did his best. 

“And you thought I was so short sighted?” Zaann said with a touch of disapproval, maybe even offense. “That is why I still need Anakin. Well, his blood anyhow.” 

Anakin curled up even more. Obi-wan could see his shoulders shaking, more with fear now than tears. He didn’t dare ask Zaann for details, but knew the man wouldn’t be able to help himself from giving them anyways. 

“Do you know how many prophecies, both Jedi and Sith alike, speak about the Chosen One?” Zaann asked rhetorically. Obi-wan could think of three offhand. Though admittedly, he knew next to nothing of Sith prophecy. 

“Over three hundred.” Zaann said, pausing for gravity. “The blood of the Chosen One, is a key to unlocking many things in regards to Sith wisdom. Entire collections of holocrons, temples and gateways. Relics. They only open when the blood of the Chosen One is spilled. You see, the Sith didn’t want him to bring balance. They wanted him for themselves, to become the greatest Sith warrior the universe has ever seen.” 

“But I don’t need quite so much. A few relics will make me the most powerful force wielder in existence. It will allow me to defend the Order from the threat of extinction. It’s almost makes me laugh- you talk about the will of the force. _I_ am one with it. Were it not for the force and its will, you both would have died on Kraysiss Two, and all this potential to protect the order would have been lost. But the force brought you back, for this.” 

Obi-wan stared at the man slack jawed. The idealistic fanaticism he was up against was so much worse than he ever thought possible. Their seemingly insurmountable circumstances coupled with the devastating realization of how he had hurt Anakin left him null for any ideas of how to navigate the situation further. But Zaann didn’t need prompting, he was on a roll explaining his methods and reasoning. He was a full blown narcissistic psychopath on a manic rampage. 

“When I had learned about Kraysiss Two in my research, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to rid the galaxy of both of you, without having to get my hands dirty. The council lapped up the idea of a Sith threat, even though they had no idea where the source of the information had come from, or what their motives were. The council is often blinded by their own ambitions.” 

Zaanns admission only surprised Obi-wan for a moment, but it made sense that it was he who had orchestrated their demise from the beginning. Still, the knowledge of the man’s obsession only added to the fear that they were never getting out of this alive. 

“You are a fool if you think you can single handedly protect the Order. You’re using Sith tactics to achieve power. You might as well be one yourself.” Obi-wan said lowly, condemning. Zaann might see himself as some gold-plated savior, but Obi-wan wasn’t about to die pandering to the man’s self importance. 

“It’s close minded to shut oneself off from the potential of all that lies outside of the light. I will do whatever it takes to protect the Order, even if it means reaching into the dark.” Zaann declared. 

“The moment you think the ends justify the means, you lose sight of the very heart of what it means to be a Jedi. Prophecy isn’t meant to be taken as literal truth. Nothing is set in stone until it comes to pass.” _That’s how it is with visions. It’s only a vision, until it’s real and you find yourself forcing yourself on your defenseless Padawan with only your moral will to stop you but even that fails because anything can be justified in the heat of the moment._

“Now let me tell you what is set in stone,” Zaann said darkly, well done with justifying himself. “I’m going to drain that boy for every drop of blood he has, and you’re going to watch me do it, because I don’t like you. And when he’s dead and cold, I’m going to slit your throat and watch you bleed out with a smile on my face.” 

Obi-wan looked to Jerot again frantically. He was done trying to negotiate with a mad man. “Jerot, you don’t have to help him. You know what he’s doing is wrong, I know you do.” Obi-wan said in a calm yet frantic voice. 

“You’re wasting your time. My Padawan knows the value of the bigger picture. And he’s loyal to his Master.” Zaann said assuredly as he cased closer to Anakin, his back to Jerot and Obi-wan. 

“Help us and I’ll make sure he never hurts you again. I promise.” Obi-wan said, catching Jerot’s conflicted gaze. 

“Jerot, go and fetch me the case at the end of the hallway. Quickly.” Zaann ordered as he lingered over Anakin’s huddled form. 

A tortured expression fell over him as he turned reluctantly to follow his Master’s order. “Please don’t do this,” Obi-wan begged, hating that he was reduced to it, but finding no other suitable options. Fighting his restraints would only weaken him if he did have the chance to escape them. And since their lightsabers had been confiscated, he would need every ounce of strength he could get. 

Zaann ignored him, looming over his prize. The Chosen One finally in his grasp, helpless to his designs. He was so absorbed, basking in his victory that he hadn’t noticed the case that he had requested being hurled through the air straight at him until it was too late. 

With a dull thud it crashed into him at chest level, knocking him into the bulkhead. With a wave of his hand Jerot unlocked both sets of their stun cuffs and tried to pull his Master’s saber from his belt. Obi-wan was still regaining his footing when Jerot’s outstretched palm nearly grasped the saber, just moments before Zaann remotely switched it on, swinging its blazing green blade through his Padawan’s torso. 

With breath still caught in his lungs, Jerot collapsed to the ground in two misshapen heaps, most likely dead by the time he hit the floor, if not moments after. Obi-wan could hear a horrified scream rip from Anakin’s lungs distantly as time seemed to slow down. The stink of charred flesh filled the small room as the saber arced back towards Obi-wan, aiming to take the head from his shoulders. 

Quickly unfurling into a backbend Obi-wan missed the blade by mere inches. Rebounding fast he leapt into a crouch, his first inclination to get between Anakin and the monster that wanted him dead. Deliberation over how much better or worse he was in comparison could wait for later, when their lives weren't on the line. 

If Anakin were in better repair, the two of them might have been able to take Zaann on without a saber. Though with him on the edge of death, and even closer if he reached for the force at all, things were a bit tricky. 

“This doesn’t change anything. Both of you are going to die, that’s just how your story ends.” Zaann snarled maniacally.

Obi-wan ignored the taunt and waited patiently for Zaann to seek him out, cornering him and swinging at his midline. Just moments before the blade would have caught him, Obi-wan leapt up and over the man, grappling him from behind, keeping his body pressed tightly against Qualturus’s for the sake of avoiding the man’s saber swings. 

With a low feral growl Zaann hooked one leg around Kenobi’s and threw him forward over his shoulders. Obi-wan hit the ground with a breathtaking slam, staggering his offensive for just long enough for Zaann to bear down on him. He could feel the spittle of his attacker hot on his face, the beam of his saber even hotter. Obi-wan wrestled against the man’s iron grip on the saber, keeping it just off of his flesh. If he faltered for even a second, he would be dead. 

But suddenly Zaann began to gasp for air, a touch of panic lighting his violet eyes. His grip weakened, giving Obi-wan a reprieve in exertion. His wheezing became more scarce when his body was pulled- no- _thrown_ across the room, landing against the solid durasteel hull. Obi-wan stared at the man’s body that was held inches from the ground as he grabbed at his throat desperately, all swagger and self assurance bled from him as he all but silently begged for his life. 

With a darkness flowing through him, Anakin sauntered menacingly over towards the man he had pinned there, seeming to savor the moment for all its irony. Without looking Anakin called Zaann’s saber to his hand. Obi-wan sensed more power and mastery in his Padawan in that very moment, than he had during his entire apprenticeship. Something unlocked inside him, he could feel it. And he wasn’t sure it was a good thing, either. But power looked good on Anakin Skywalker, he couldn’t deny it. And that, along with so many other reasons, concluded the long list of why he wasn’t good for him. But that could be dealt with later. 

Slowly Anakin raised the saber against the Zabraks ribs, right over where his heart would be. He pressed the business end against his chest and waited, looking down into Zaann’s eyes with what Obi-wan could only guess to be a look of subdued rage, perhaps a touch of vengeance. It was justified, after all. Of course that was the opinion of perhaps the worst Jedi in the Order, Obi-wan reminded himself. 

Then the saber ignited, flashing green as Zaann let out a grunt before he collapsed onto the ground, Anakin falling with him.


	19. Vow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday everyone!

Obi-wan stood reverently before the funeral pyre as Jerot’s body was placed with care atop it. Only two rotations had passed since the poor boy had been murdered in cold blood, without a single thought of restraint. Every grueling hour of those two days had felt nearly unreal, though the same trend had carried out ever since he and Anakin had landed on Kraysiss Two, which was now just over one standard month ago. 

Obi-wan tried not to think of all the things that had happened, all of the ways both he and Anakin had changed. There were certain turning points along the way, things that could not be taken back or undone. Between those moments were times that felt nearly menial, but now Obi-wan saw clearly that in those moments, they had only been in the eye of the storm- the dreadful wretched storm that Zaann Qualturus had composed himself. But that was a name Obi-wan was more than willing to forget, if he could manage it. 

He didn’t suspect that he would be able to do such a thing any time soon. Admittedly he did have more pressing things that occupied most of his mental space, the fore of all having to do with his Padawan. Anakin still hung dangerously near death’s edge, nestled in the Temple of Eedit’s healing halls. There was nothing more that could be done for him on Coruscant that the healers couldn’t do on Devaron, and the Council had thought it best for Obi-wan to stay put during the short investigation into the two sudden and shocking deaths. 

As much as Obi-wan wanted to be rid of the place along with its terrible reminders, he was obediently acquiescent to the wishes of the Council. He might have protested it, but Obi-wan had lost the will to fight anything that wasn’t of absolute necessity. With Anakin on the brink he felt detrimentally numb, especially in the wake of knowing the horrors that the boy had lived through back on Kraysiss Two- by his own hand even. Obi-wan felt sick every time he thought of it. 

If it weren’t for Anakin’s continued reliance on him, he might have consigned himself to a slow death alone in some far corner of the galaxy. Perhaps dehydration out in a scorched wasteland, or starvation on an icy mountain top. He would find a place where he could serve his penance, not that his wrongs could ever be righted by the act. But if Anakin were to lose his battle against the Sith virus that ravaged his body, the one that he infected the boy with himself, Obi-wan would do just that. Find some place where he could suffer, where he could pay for his sins as much as they could ever be paid for. 

But he knew they would never be paid for. They never could be. Some things were just irreversible, unspeakable, terrible beyond compare- all in equal measure. And he had done one of those things. If Obi-wan were any less numb, he would have been able to hate himself more for it. 

Maybe the worst part was how he knew Anakin didn’t blame him for it. He had seen it in his eyes. Anakin thought the world of him, even after what he had done. Obi-wan didn’t deserve him. Truly, he didn’t. He only hoped the force wouldn’t take him away because of his own loathsome unworthiness. Obi-wan choked back a sob that ached in his throat as he thought of his Anakin lying on the pyre, consumed by flames. 

_His_ Anakin. Still, after everything, he couldn’t give up that possessive claim. Anakin was his, because Obi-wan belonged to him, too. He had given over his life to train him, and had fallen for him in every sense along the way. Because he loved him so much, his own wrongdoing carved even deeper into his soul, the guilt seeping down into his core like black ink that would never be washed away. 

Locked in thought, Obi-wan found himself impervious to the crowd that slowly trickled into the ritual chamber around him. Mace and Yoda stood at either side of him as the pyre was set alight, the body of that poor boy being finally sent to rest. 

Obi-wan felt a stir of many conflicting things inside of himself as the small crowd watched over Jerot’s burning body, wishing well upon the poor soul whose life had been cut woefully short. 

Obi-wan was thankful. If it hadn’t been for Jerot’s boldness, his sacrifice, Anakin would surely have been killed. For that, he would forever be indebted to the boy. It was another thing he could never repay, never make right. Jerot should never have had to make such a sacrifice. He should have never been put under the hand of such an abusive Master. 

An invisible hand gripped his heart tightly, wrenching in his chest. Anakin hadn’t seemed to fare much better. The one he called Master had hurt him, too. He had hurt him in one of the most insidious, wicked and self-serving ways that one could hurt another living being. Obi-wan would have sawed off his right arm, sold his soul, done anything in his power to make the boy whole again. But of course, nothing could be done. Nothing could be sold or bargained with to change a single thing. Anakin would still be broken, and he would still be stained by his sins and transgressions. 

Obi-wan, in all of his darkness, took a moment to give silent thanks to the boy that had given his life to save Anakin’s, along with a heartfelt apology- one of the deepest meaning and gravest regret. Obi-wan couldn’t forget the words he had said to him, the most empty promise he had ever made. 

_Help us and I’ll make sure he never hurts you again._

In a way, it hadn’t been a false promise. Zaann would never be able to touch Jerot again from beyond the grave. And if there was indeed an afterlife as some cultures took stock in believing, Obi-wan was sure Zaann and Jerot were destined for two very different places. No, Jerot would never be hurt again. And Obi-wan was nearly certain that he would never feel, dream or think again, either.

And Obi-wan was thankful, and shamefully remorseful all the same. It shouldn’t have happened. None of it should ever have happened. If Obi-wan had just been more careful, if he had set the ship down to repair the com array, or made just one different choice among the many that had led up to being bound in a ship’s cargo hold at the mercy of that mad man, Jerot might still be alive. 

But that was another point of no return, a thing that could not be taken back or reversed. Like agreeing for Anakin to come with him to Kraysiss Two, among many other awful turning points that had long since come and gone. Obi-wan hoped their future would hold more forgiving circumstances, but knew better than to put too much hope in the prospect. 

When that Sith had run his own Master through, Obi-wan had understood that as another point of no return. He wondered if turning points in most people’s lives were usually shrouded in such grim circumstances. Jinn had been the only other person that he had ever really loved, and even still, nothing could ever compare to how he loved Anakin. When he had lost Qui-gon, Anakin had been put in his path. It had been painful, but he had been able to make peace with it over the years. If he lost Anakin, nothing would be able to console him or keep him going. No amount of time would heal the wound in his soul. 

If he were forced to watch his Anakin burn, he would climb atop the flames and burn with him. It would be less painful than to watch him turn to ashes. Obi-wan felt his eyes brim with tears as he watched the orange glow of the flames lick up the sides of the pyre, the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh taking to the air. He begged the force to have mercy on Anakin’s precious soul, to save him from the brink of death. Did he have the right to beg such a thing when he was the one responsible for putting him there to start? Obi-wan didn’t think so, but he begged and prayed all the same. He had to be spared, didn’t he?

Anakin was so full of life and potential. Even as he had risen to action against Zaann, Obi-wan had never sensed such power in him ever before. Something had awoken inside of him. Obi-wan only wished that he would be allowed to come into his power, to grow into the shoes that had been set before him. Anakin would be the greatest Jedi that ever lived, and a benevolent one at that. An angel from a myth, one that would live on into the ends of time. 

“I am truly sorry, Obi-wan. You must know the Council had no idea about any sinister threat here on Devaron. Had we known, we would have sent someone else instead. We truly intended for your time here to be peaceful. We wanted you both to get a chance to heal.” Mace said sullenly, breaking Obi-wan’s meditation of heartache and sorrow. 

Obi-wan had no words to give. Of course he knew none of it had been deliberate. But he was broken inside all the same, and angry. 

“Shocking, the footage from Zaann’s office was. Bold he was for not covering his tracks. Feared nothing, he did.” Master Yoda said solemnly. 

Upon investigating into Zaann’s abuse, it came as a shock to everyone involved to see the tapes from his office completely untampered with and intact. Obi-wan declined the invitation to watch them for himself. He didn’t need any more fuel for the hate he felt inside himself. 

Because he wasn’t just angry at Zaann. He was angry at Yoda for his direction in every step of the way, always placing Anakin in the path of terrible danger. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t been intentional, it nearly made it worse. The Council was truly so locked on their own agenda that they didn’t think about the big picture and the risks involved. 

“An apology I owe you, Obi-wan.” Yoda said quietly, none of them taking their eyes from the flame that blazed on against the darkness. “To see things clearly, I failed. Regretful I am that look deeper I did not. A grave error, it was.” 

Obi-wan swallowed hard, a few stray tears escaping him. “The Council wishes for you to take as much time as you need. No missions. Wherever you need to go, you go. Whatever you feel you need to do, you do it.” Mace said in earnest. “And whatever you need, just let me know.” 

Obi-wan nodded, lowering his eyes from the flames. “I… appreciate that, Master Windu.” 

“I suspect you’ll want to stay by young Skywalker’s side until he recovers. And he _will_ recover.” Mace said with conviction. Though the healers hadn’t shared that same sentiment, and however they had tried to paint it less grim than it truly was, not a single one had expressed much hope at all. 

Of course they had said all the right things. They said that anything was possible, and that it was too soon to say. The truth was, Anakin was in too dire condition to say if he would pull through for sure, and everyone was afraid to say just how surprising it was that he hadn’t died already. Though Obi-wan could feel the shock in the healers tasked with his care. They didn’t try to hide it. 

Obi-wan wondered what they would think of him if they knew the truth about how Anakin fell so ill to begin with. Suggesting he stay right by his side would be the exact opposite of the Council’s agenda if they knew what he had done to him- how he had _hurt_ him. But that was one dark secret that he would never disclose. 

Obi-wan just nodded slowly, his eyes rising back to the pyre that now burned white hot at its core. Jerot’s form was all but gone from sight, his silhouette just barely visible inside the mass of flames. 

That night Obi-wan went back to the healing halls within Eedit just has he had the two nights prior. He sat awake at Anakin’s bedside, begging the force to have mercy until he fell asleep. The next morning he ordered a shuttle to take both of them back home to Coruscant. Being given agency to do whatever, go wherever, upon Council decree, was useful that way. 

Feeling some reprieve of normalcy at home in the temple, Obi-wan forced himself up to walk the halls during the day. It would hardly be seen as normal Master-Padawan attachment if Obi-wan never left his side at all. And even though he didn’t eat, Obi-wan wandered the mess hall. He would even dish himself up a helping of whatever they were serving that day, poke and prod the meal with a fork until it went cold, then dispose of it. People would start to worry if he wasn’t seen eating. It was bad enough that he had noticeably slimmed down. Really, he was mostly skin and bone.

The truth was he had hardly eaten a bite since Anakin had been ill. He just couldn’t bring himself to eat. His mind was too heavy with regret and things that made his stomach want to reject anything it might have held. 

One week after they returned to Coruscant, Obi-wan sequestered himself off in one of the temple meditation chambers. It was one that he knew well. The floor was covered in a rich plush indigo rug with potted plants adorning the walls in a variety of green shades. The ceiling had been made to look like skylights open to an empty blue expanse with the occasional passing bird overhead. A small bubbling fountain perched itself on the far wall, made of river rock in various shades and textures.

This had been the first meditation chamber his own Master had ever shown him. He and Qui-gon had sat here together for countless hours, practicing meditation in its various forms. For a moment as Obi-wan unlaced his boots and stood with his toes curled into the plush carpet, he thought he might have been able to smell his late Master’s subtle cologne. It was fleeting- a memento of simpler times. 

Now as he settled down into the typical meditative pose, he set out to find some measure of healing for himself. With Anakin progressing in his own rehabilitation and no longer considered in critical condition, it was clear that he was indeed going to make a complete recovery. That meant Anakin, sooner or later, would wake up from his coma. When he did he was going to need his Master more than ever. 

And it frightened him. He didn’t know what he could say to him. There was no way to express with words how horrified he was for his actions. Obi-wan knew Anakin would feel the weight of it in his heart. He was prepared to let the boy feel every ounce of his dark regret, just for the sake of being known and understood. 

And Obi-wan also knew that Anakin would welcome him with open arms and endless forgiveness. It only made him feel worse. But Anakin was his Padawan. He would have to figure it out- figure _himself_ out. It wouldn’t do to have Anakin see him so desolate, both physically and spiritually. 

Obi-wan was determined to get himself right. He had even forced a small meal into his hollowed out belly that morning, knowing Anakin wouldn’t be able to see him so emaciated. Even if he hadn’t looked like death walking, their first encounter was going to be difficult. Along with proper nourishment, he knew he needed to meditate to find himself again. To find the Master that Anakin so badly needed. 

As he sank into the force, it felt strange. It had been the first time he had meditated since their capture. The only time he had communed with the force since then was to beg for Anakin’s life. Now as he tried to find his center, he was forced to wade through dark and unpleasant memories that clung to his mind like black tar. After all, processing all the awful things that had happened wasn’t going to be a pleasant task. 

The worst of all had been remembering with gruesome detail how Anakin had felt beneath him, frightened and trembling. How he had cried and begged him to stop, and had even fought against him for a bit before giving up. 

Obi-wan felt a cold pang of nausea grip him. Because in spite of everything, how Anakin tensed and screamed when he had forcibly pressed inside of him, Obi-wan had made the decision to keep hurting him. When he came to, he should have stopped. He never would have thought it to be so easy to give in instead. 

It was awful how his body had the capacity to feel pleasure from hurting his own Padawan. It made him sick. Obi-wan could try to blame it all on Sith influence, but it was him that kept on long after he had regained control over himself. How Anakin’s body reacted to the change in pace didn’t justify his indiscretion. It only served to confuse the poor boy further while giving a convenient excuse to use in the moment, to forgo guilt in lieu of pleasure. 

But that moment had long since passed and now all he felt was a mountain of regret. Sure, going forward he would have full capacity over his senses. There would be no Sith relics or artifacts pushing dark suggestions onto his mind. But he still held very strong feelings and desires for Anakin. Even more dangerous was the fact that Anakin felt similarly towards him, in spite of how he had used him. Or worse- maybe he felt that way _because_ of the trauma. 

Obi-wan shuddered as his stomach lurched, threatening to expel the meager breakfast he had managed to force down. He breathed, steadying himself. Anakin had a lot of healing to do. If his feelings for his Master were truly borne from such darkness, they would fade and change, wouldn’t they? Regardless, they couldn’t be acted on. So long as Anakin was his Padawan, he would never allow such things to transpire. No matter how much either of them wanted something more. 

Obi-wan held onto that resolve as he dove deeper into meditation, releasing as much of his heartache and pain as he could. The entire rotation passed by and he felt he made little progress. There were just too many things to sort through to tackle all in one day. Though a small step was more than none at all. And what was a journey if not a series of small steps, one after the other? 

Obi-wan willed himself to stay positive. By the time Anakin came to, he needed to be in the right mindset to receive him properly. He wasn’t going to pay his penance on some mountain top or empty wasteland. He was going to do it by digging himself out of the dark mess he had landed himself in, struggling through to make peace with everything he could, for Anakin’s sake. Anakin had been through hell and back. Obi-wan would need to be there for him the best he knew how.

After night had long past fallen Obi-wan traversed the temple, which was scant for beings aside from the nocturnal variants that quietly went along with their business. Just as silently Obi-wan took his place at Anakin’s side as he had every night since the boy had fallen comatose. 

Obi-wan wheeled the spare med sleeper to press up against Anakin’s and curled atop its unforgiving surface, pressing his body up against the railing and slipping his arm through to rest on his Padawan’s shoulder. Looking out in the dim light that streamed in from the hall outside, Obi-wan studied Anakin’s vacant expression with a dim ache in his chest. 

The ashen tone to his skin had subsided, and the worst of the dark lines that had carved through had lightened significantly, though they still held the trace reminder of the illness that he carried- the virus that he had given him, himself. Obi-wan almost wanted to tell the Council everything, all of his misgivings and terrible sins just to purge his soul of their weight. He knew they would never understand. It wouldn’t matter. 

But he knew he could never do such a thing. They would take Anakin away from him if he did. Anakin needed him, so that would be unacceptable. He would bear the shame in silence. 

Before drifting off to sleep, instead of begging for his Padawan’s life, Obi-wan this time thanked the force for Anakin’s recovery. He thanked the force for showing mercy, and he vowed that he would never again place anything above Anakin’s wellbeing. 

…….

Obi-wan awoke with a sheen of sweat on his brow, his stomach in knots. He pulled back his arm that had crossed through to Anakin’s sleeper, feeling his palm cold and damp. He still felt the rush of a nightmare in his veins making his breathing come in short labored huffs. 

Most of it had dissolved upon waking, but a gnawing fear pulled at him still. He wanted to put it aside but wasn’t willing to face it again just yet, like he feared he would if he tried to go to sleep again. Because he knew that Jedi didn’t have bad dreams, only visions. And he knew the things that he had seen and forgotten, he didn’t want to remember. The light nausea churning in his stomach told him that. 

He was so awfully tired of the endless barrage. He wanted a stretch of time, perhaps a month or two where he could train his Padawan in peace. No danger, no death, no trauma. They deserved it, didn’t they? Obi-wan looked over towards the sleeping boy across from him, still rapt deep in the tranquility of his coma. 

Yes, Anakin deserved peace. As far as what Obi-wan deserved, he knew he already had far more than he could ever ask for. He only prayed that it wouldn’t be taken from him. That _Anakin_ wouldn’t be taken from him. 

Grimly, Obi-wan lie there for the remainder of the night, his eyes wide open, pressed against the darkness. But that night turned to day, and then into night again. After a long day of meditation as he had done the day before along with another meal forced down to finish it out, Obi-wan retreated back to Anakin’s med room to lie at his side. 

This time he begged the force to show him mercy, to let his sleep be void of any visions and allow him to rest. He amended the plea with another note of thanks for Anakin’s continued recovery. 

Then he closed his eyes gingerly, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He reached out across to Anakin’s sleeper, tangling his hand around the boy’s arm. The simple contact usually helped console him enough to fall asleep, quieting the heartache that he felt loudly at most times. Obi-wan found that especially as he subjected himself to the long grueling days of meditation, he was even more mentally and emotionally fatigued. 

Not long after he fell asleep, Obi-wan found himself plunged into the heart of another vision. Another nightmare. He cried out as he shot up from his sleeper in a cold sweat, his hands trembling. He knew there had been more to the vision than he could recall. Somehow a portion of it fell through his grasp as he woke. But what he did remember made him feel terribly ill. 

Anakin was in danger. There had been the sick sound of violence on flesh, and the unmistakable sound of Anakin crying out in pain. 

Obi-wan didn’t know when or how, but someone was going to hurt him. His heart dropped and his stomach clenched, threatening to reject its contents. Obi-wan’s heart slammed in his chest, feeling like it might explode. One thought played over and over in his exhausted mind. 

_This can’t be happening_

That night he didn’t go back to sleep. Obi-wan got up and took a cold shower, grooming himself meticulously before he went to walk the halls, waiting for Mace to awake. It would be childish to go to him in the middle of the night like a scared youngling. He would wait instead. 

Finally when Master Windu made his appearance, Obi-wan was quick on his heels. 

“Master Windu, might I have a word in private?” Obi-wan said, doing little to hide his distress. The cold shower had helped him look a tad bit less worn than he felt, but still he looked far from the collected, thoughtful man that he usually presented himself as. 

“Of course Master Kenobi,” Mace said with a look of slight worry as he guided Obi-wan into one of his conference chambers. 

Before Mace could even open his mouth to ask what the matter was, Obi-wan ran him over with hastened breathless words. “I’m having visions. I know Anakin is going to be hurt, maybe even kidnapped.” Obi-wan said, well aware of how emotional he was coming across and not caring. 

Mace stood there, silent for a moment, surveying Obi-wan with even more concern. He took a breath before speaking, taking a seat as well and motioning for Obi-wan to do the same. Anxiously, Obi-wan did. 

He pursed his lips pensively before speaking. “Obi-wan,” he began, trying to navigate the topic as tactfully as possible. “Visions… are just possible outcomes. Often times they are symbolic. They can move us to think and feel very resolutely, but visions are just that- visions.” 

_Until they aren’t any more and something terrible has happened. Until you find yourself…_

Obi-wan stopped himself dead in his tracks of mental and emotional destabilization. Becoming totally unhinged before a Council member was the last thing he needed to do. Besides, his rational mind knew what Mace was saying to be true. But at the same time he knew that visions could be very literal. He had experienced that himself, in the most dreadful of ways. But he couldn’t tell Mace that. He couldn’t tell Mace much of anything that would lead to him understanding, not without exposing what was meant to stay hidden. 

Obi-wan swallowed his panic. He tried to remember what Qui-gon had learned. That the changes that visions cause in a person often times lead to their culmination to begin with. His Master had experienced that, along with their symbolic nature. He wanted that to be the case so badly. Something inside himself told him otherwise. 

“I know you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. It’s not entirely impossible that this is just a manifestation of that.” Mace said as kindly as he could. 

“I don’t think kidnapping is too much of a stretch. Not if what Zaann said was true. If Anakin is a… a _key_ of sorts… there could be many people who know that. People with the means and connections to get ahold of him.” Obi-wan said insistently. 

“Nothing can be done about people cooking up schemes like that, however depraved they are.” Mace said lightly. 

“But I have to protect him.” Obi-wan said suddenly, knowing it was a slip up the moment the words left his lips. It showed his attachment- or his over attachment, rather. Mace’s eyes grew slightly hardened towards the statement. 

“Trying to avoid it might very well cause it to happen. Your own Master learned that the hard way.” Mace said in a slightly less gentle admonition. 

Obi-wan lowered his gaze. “I know.” He said. It was the proper Jedi response, and the one Mace would be looking for. 

Mace reached out, putting a consoling hand over Obi-wan’s. “I know that things have been difficult. You and Anakin have been through more than most. But you have to be mindful of your trauma. You can’t let it determine your actions.” 

Obi-wan heaved a sigh. Mace was right. No matter how much Obi-wan’s core disagreed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Obi-wan said quietly. 

Meditation was the answer. He could look past it if he tried hard enough. If he could put his fear of losing Anakin aside, maybe he could avoid the vision coming to fruition altogether. But he didn’t think he would ever _not_ be afraid of losing Anakin. Not after everything. That would mean setting aside attachments, digging up the cord that had sunk deeply into his heart, that seemed to keep him alive when he had no other purpose. 

Perhaps in meditation he would find the answer to that, too. He could at least try. And he would try. 

“No need to be sorry,” Mace assured him. “I’m here if you ever need to talk. If you keep on having the visions, see me again. We can work through it together.” 

“I appreciate that.” Obi-wan said, nodding with a fake smile that passed very well for the real thing. 

Because if there was one thing Obi-wan was absolutely certain of, it was that he would not be speaking to Mace about any future visions. Not now, not ever again. He already saw that it had been a grievous error to reach out to him at all. No one would understand. And the only one who would, was locked in a coma and had no business counseling him on such matters to begin with. It wouldn’t be right to burden Anakin with such things. 

Obi-wan politely withdrew from Mace’s chamber and retreated to the mess hall, forcing himself to shovel down another meal that his stomach hadn’t wanted. After that he dragged himself to the meditation chamber that reminded him of Qui-gon Jinn and began another day of hard work cleansing himself of the darkness that had lodged within him during their travails, desperately trying to find a point of clarity.

And after a few hours of hard work, he seemed to achieve it. His heart understood that there wasn’t much to be done about the visions he was having. He needed to be confident in both his and Anakin’s ability to defend themselves. And together, they were quite a match to go up against. Obi-wan was sure that had even multiplied five fold at least since Anakin had slain Zaann. Something had awoken inside of him, and it was incredibly powerful. In all of his years of practice, it was more than Obi-wan had ever amounted to. 

Yes, they were formidable opponents. If Obi-wan couldn’t get his perspective in check, he ran the risk of pushing the ambiguous events in question to materialize. It wasn’t easy, but he would discipline himself, get his thoughts in line. Confidence in himself and his Padawan would serve as a substitute for checking his attachment this time. Both had the effect of putting the threat out of mind, mostly. 

Obi-wan returned to Anakin that night and began the ritual of pushing the med tables together, climbing under the stiff covers and reaching out through the rail bars for some small contact with the boy. Obi-wan closed his eyes, relishing the presence of Anakin beside him. However ill and recovering he was, he was alive. He was alive and with him. Now, that meant more to him that it ever had. 

Without asking or thanking the force for anything, Obi-wan fell asleep. When he awoke, there were tears in his eyes- tears of relief. The whole night had come and gone with no nightmarish visions to wake him. Perhaps Mace was right, it was just a matter of steering clear of them, not giving the fear power over himself to take ahold of his actions. It seemed to be working. 

Another week passed. Obi-wan grew stronger each day. He wasn’t at the same peak of health he had been before Kraysiss Two. He had been weakened by three weeks in the healing halls himself, along with the malnourishment he had subjected himself to for several weeks after that. All the same, he was beginning to fill out his figure to the point that people no longer looked at him twice to see if he were some ghoul or indeed a living breathing being. The hollow of his belly and cheeks began to return to their usual state. His cheekbones and the edges of ribs were still more pronounced than he would have liked, but he was well on the mend. 

And not a single vision had broken through to him. Anakin was looking better and better with each passing day. And, in spite of the grave condition he had come to him in, the healers gave generous projections that he would perhaps spend less time in recovery than Obi-wan had after his bout of the virus. They said that Anakin would, without a doubt, be awake sometime within the week.

The thought stirred anxiety through Obi-wan upon hearing the good news. The next several days Obi-wan only left Anakin’s side to eat, use the fresher, and bathe. He did small meditations at his bedside and ran through some exercise meditations to return some of his strength to him, but he was afraid for Anakin to wake up and not find his Master at his side. 

Obi-wan wanted to be there, just like Anakin had when he had awoken from his coma. He wanted Anakin to know without a doubt that he would be there for him always. That night Obi-wan fell asleep with nervous excitement in his belly. Things could finally go back to the way they were, mostly. Anakin would be his typical quippish self and Obi-wan could be the Master who ragged on him with loving chastisement. Obi-wan longed for that more than anything else. 

Then on one fateful night not soon after, the visions returned. This time there was no forgetting, no ambiguous fear to bite at him after the fact. There was only sure and terrible horror when Obi-wan saw with dreadful clarity, the source of Anakin’s pain. 

He could see Anakin lying prone, his clothes tattered, his skin littered with scratches and bruises. A hand pulled through his hair that had grown out slightly, taking on its natural curl. That hand took a fist full of those golden locks and pulled hard. Anakin gave a weak cry for the pain. Another hand grabbed the flesh of his hip and pulled him to his knees, probably leaving marks on top of the ones that already mottled his skin. Anakin was bare from the waist down. He whimpered quietly as two slicked fingers probed inside of him roughly. 

He heard a voice, _his own voice,_ coo with sick pleasure. “ _Good boy._ ” 

Anakin gave an acquiescent moan as Obi-wan added a third finger, working him open further. He could feel his cock pulse and ache to fill him. It made him sick to his stomach. 

Rather violently, Obi-wan felt himself press his hard wanting cock against the boy’s slick, worked hole. A hand wrapped around his shoulders possessively and another one wrapped around the base of his own girth as he forced his way inside. Anakin gasped and whimpered. Obi-wan pressed a hand over his lips, silencing him. 

“Shhh,” Obi-wan breathed. A small moan hummed against the hand held over Anakin’s mouth as he probed at the spot that made the boy’s knees weak. 

“That’s right,” Obi-wan whispered, continuing to prod him gently for a few more moments before he pressed deeper inside him, earning a strangled whimper from the boy that began to quiver slightly beneath him. 

Obi-wan’s eyes flew open as he came to with a cry that was followed by unrestrained sobs, leaving him hyperventilating and short of breath. His body shook as his stomach twisted. It couldn’t be real, he didn’t understand how he could hurt Anakin again, after everything. It left him terrified of himself, of the things that he could do. Obi-wan curled up on the med sleeper as far away from Anakin as he could lie without falling onto the ground. He lay there, silently weeping for hours, in total dismay. 

Anakin, _his_ Anakin. He didn’t deserve him. And as the force had shown him, he would only hurt him again and again if given the chance. Obi-wan didn’t understand it, it made his heart crumble and his body shake. His attachment was a cancer that would eat them both alive, turn them into something else if left unchecked long enough. 

Obi-wan had vowed to protect Anakin at any cost. He never imagined that the cost would be so high. 

…….

Obi-wan stood before the council, still thoroughly shaken by the vision that had tormented him the night before. His eyes wore heavy bags, and it was clear that he had been crying from the blotchy red patches all over his face. Obi-wan didn’t care. This had to be done, and it had to be done now before he lost the will. It was the only way, he had become sure of that over the last several hours of frantic bargaining and begging with himself and the force. 

The chamber stood silent as eyes fell to him. With his gaze fixed on a far distant point on the Coruscanti horizon, Obi-wan drew a deep breath before he spoke. This was another point of no return, he knew. It was something that couldn’t be taken back. He had to hold to his resolve, for Anakin’s sake. It was better than the alternative. 

“I take the Barash Vow.” Obi-wan declared, his voice resolute though everything else about him spoke of hesitation and reluctance. 

Obi-wan could feel the air in the room grow tense and uneasy. He didn’t dare look any of them in the eye for fear they would see the hideous monster that lurked inside of him, waiting for a moment of weakness to lash out. Waiting for its chance to hurt Anakin. 

“If that is what you wish, we have no power to stop you.” Mace said sadly. “Nor is it right for any of us to try and persuade you otherwise.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi. Should you ever chose to renounce, the Order would be more than glad to have you back.” Master Plo said with some measure of sadness. 

Without another word, Obi-wan turned to leave. He would be leaving everything that ever mattered behind. And it hurt terribly, but he knew it was for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who might not know what taking the Barash entails:  
> "The Barash vow was an oath taken by Jedi who completely refrained from all activities related to the Jedi Order as a form of penitence."  
> https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Barash_vow
> 
> This has been a long time coming. And so much more to go! Thanks for all your continued support. See you next week with another one!  
> Blu3


	20. Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at ya with another one!
> 
> Blu3

Anakin came to slowly, his eyes adjusting to the room around him. The first thing he noticed was the empty med sleeper across the room, still fresh with the imprint of where his Master had slept beside him. If there had ever been a doubt as to whether or not it had been Obi-wan and not someone else, Anakin could still feel the ghost of the man’s presence linger in the space like a warmth on his skin. 

That soothing energy calmed him as he began to collect himself, along with the memories that were tossed haphazardly throughout his mind. Fragments began to come back in flashes of sight and sound, all tied together with the sturdy cord of emotion that pulled him back in time. 

He remembered leaving Devaron, his Master taking him away from that awful place. He remembered the kiss that they had shared. Remembering _that_ sent a flutter through his chest and tied his stomach in knots. Of course he knew it wasn’t meant to be, but he held tightly onto that memory all the same. The sweet taste of his Master’s tongue on his own, the one single moment where their feelings were no longer hidden from one another, or ignored. It was foolish to ever think it could work, but that moment had been pure bliss.

And everything after had been hell. Suddenly it all came rushing back to him in an icy blurr- from getting stranded out in the middle of open space, to waking up captured and detrimentally incapacitated. The memory of Jerot’s death hit him like a stone wall, knocking the air out of his lungs as the rest of the events ran him over with the same disregard for his unraveling emotional state. 

The bruises and scratches that wrapped around Jerot’s neck, the darkening mark on the boy’s arm that circled his wrist, still fresh. The second wave of realization that he was dead rushed through him again in another bout of anguish. A tide of anger quickly replaced it as his thoughts turned to Zaann. 

Yes, Anakin recalled with icy clarity the way he strode into that small room with more hubris than the entire Order should have possessed. The way he had laid out all of his grand plans, how he had been designing their demise from the very beginning. The way he had cut Obi-wan to pieces connecting the dots to the root of Anakin’s sickness. The look on his Master’s face still haunted him. 

His eyes were mirrors of absolute horror. Anakin still remembered how his heart stopped dead in his chest, how he couldn’t breathe. How the look of terror stricken shock had painted his Master’s face a sickly white shade. If Obi-wan had to know the difficult truth of what had really happened, there were so many better ways to break it. 

It was inevitable that the truth was going to hurt his Master, no matter how he learned it. Anakin had been prepared to go the rest of his life without ever speaking of it at all. It would have been better that way. So much better than watching Zaann laugh as he ripped Obi-wan apart without a second thought. Watching it all play out hurt Anakin terribly, making his fear turn to a festering rage. 

But after watching Zaann slice Jerot through- the only person in the entire temple of Eedit who had ever looked at him as something other than an annoyance, something inside of Anakin had changed. That simmering anger turned to black molten tar inside of him. It became larger than the scope of his fear, which was significant to say the least. It became larger than himself, more powerful than anything he had ever felt before. That rage used _him_ more than he had used it as a tool, but somehow it heeded his desires all the same. It had locked onto the one he hated and wrapped itself around the wretched Zabrak, wanting to wring the life out of him. 

But Anakin wanted the last blow. He wanted to see the light leave the man’s eyes, and relish knowing it had been _him_ who had taken it. And Anakin did remember the satisfying rush that filled his veins as he struck the man dead with his own saber. 

And after that, was nothing. It felt nearly seamless to the point where Anakin blinked his eyes open, filled with too many things than he knew how to feel in the moment, waiting for Obi-wan to come back for him. 

Not feeling keen on the idea of sitting around and waiting much longer, he got up and showered, rinsing off the feverish grime from his skin. Anakin saw his pallor had nearly returned to normal. The dark lines that had carved their way through him were absent entirely. He figured it would be the same as when his Master had been sick, that it would be a little longer before the virus was fully purged from his system. He would just have to take it easy until then. 

Anakin would gladly heed that advice. With his heart numbed from the gravity of his most recent memories that he had yet to process the trauma of, he would happily stay in their apartment the entire week. He wanted nothing more than to sit in their living space with a cup of hot steaming tea in his palms with his Master right beside him. With Zaann dead and gone, no one would be so hell bent on their demise any longer. Things might even return to something that felt like normal- a _new_ normal. 

Toweling off and dressing himself, Anakin met with a surprised healer just outside his med room. The Twi-lek man’s eyes went wide with shock as he ushered Anakin back into the room to take his vitals and run a few tests. Most of them came back clear, and just as he expected, he was given very strict orders to avoid using any force powers at all cost for the next week. But for all intents and purposes, he was free to leave. 

“Have you seen where my Master went?” Anakin asked, spinning on his heel to face the Twi’lek man. 

“No, I haven’t seen him since early this morning. He’s been by your side ever since you arrived, I’m sure he hasn’t strayed far.” The man reassured him. 

With a nod Anakin turned and headed for the apartment wing. A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he thought about what the Twi’lek said. It felt like a small relief in what was too much grief and heartache. Anakin knew the moment he saw Obi-wan he would collapse in his arms and cry for hours. The weight of everything made Anakin’s chest feel tight, like a failing dam just moments away from breaking. 

Just as he opened the doors from the healing halls to the main temple corridor, Anakin saw Master Windu, along with another Master that Anakin knew he had met before, but couldn’t remember the name of. He had dark gray hair, a wide set nose and olive skin. Anakin could tell by their trajectory that they had meant to come for him. And that made him uneasy, especially since Obi-wan was still nowhere to be seen. 

“Masters,” Anakin said with light suspicion, nodding politely as they strode to meet him. 

“Anakin, we meant to get to you before you were released.” Mace said, a frown in his eyes. “Why don’t you come with us to one of my chambers? We can talk there.” He added, knowing already Anakin’s incessant nature. 

“What’s this about?” Anakin asked, a bad feeling sinking into his bones. 

“It would really be best if you came with us. All your questions will be answered, I promise you.” Mace said, handling the situation with as much tact as the man was capable of. 

Anakin felt his chest pull tighter, the crack in his defenses that held all the overwhelming emotion at bay becoming larger. “Where’s my Master?” Anakin asked in a pathetic voice, well devoid of any pride. At the moment, he could care less. 

Mace sighed irritably, crossing his arms and casting his gaze downwards. “This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid,” He said under his breath. 

The other Jedi stepped forward. There was an intrinsic authority about him, and something else that seemed a shade darker than most Jedi. Anakin found it intriguing, but only in passing because he had much more pressing issues at hand, such as the whereabouts of his Master. 

“Anakin, that’s what we need to talk to you about. But you don’t want to do this here.” The man motioned to the small crowd that was ammassing in the distance. A group of younglings no older than eleven chattered on down the corridor inconspicuously, desperately acting as if they weren’t eavesdropping although it was apparent that they were.

But Anakin couldn’t be concerned. As his heart dropped to his stomach and his palms went cold and clammy, everything and everyone felt a world away. 

“Is he dead?” Anakin asked, his voice quiet and level. No, there was no way Obi-wan could have died. Anakin would have felt it. He would have felt it like a blow to the back of his ribs, taking his breath away. The pain he was feeling now was different. Maybe even worse. 

“No, Obi-wan isn’t dead.” Mace said in measured words. “Anakin, let’s talk about this in private.” 

_No, he’s not dead. But he is gone._ Anakin could feel the truth of it like a burning ache deep in his core. The precursor to an all out breakdown began to count down inside of him. He could feel his body tremble, his eyes fill with tears. Obi-wan would be upset with him for not better controlling his emotions, for always acting like a youngling. But that didn’t matter any more.

The other Jedi spoke again, his words kind, solemn, and strangely reverent. “Obi-wan took the Barash vow this morning. You know what that means.” 

“What?” Anakin said distantly as a burst of anguish shot through his soul, like a silent scream into the void. 

“When you are ready to resume training, I’ll be taking you on as Padawan. You probably don’t remember my name. I’m Master Tholme.” He said gently. 

Anakin had nothing to respond with. He shook his head back and forth with empty, distant eyes. There were no questions like why or how. There was only the harrowing emptiness that took place of anything else he might have felt. Obi-wan had taken a piece of him a long time ago. Without him, he was nothing. 

Mace sighed, forever aggravated. “I hope you understand why we had hoped to speak to you about this in private.” He said with some empathy, more than Anakin was used to receiving from the man. 

After a lengthy pause, Anakin spoke with a quiet empty voice. “I... don’t feel well. I’m going to go back to my quarters and lay down.”

Mace along with Anakin’s new appointed Master stood in place as Anakin left them. The temple might have been a familiar place to him, but Anakin wandered feeling more lost than ever before. He let his legs carry him down the corridor and around the bend. Once he found himself alone, he took off in an all out sprint towards the apartments. 

He stumbled through the door to his once-shared living quarters with a sob in his chest. The space felt eerily void of his Master’s signature. Tears slipped down his face silently as Anakin pulled the door to Obi-wan’s empty room open. 

Here, he could feel him the most. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had now. And eventually with time every last trace of Obi-wan’s presence would fade away leaving Anakin with truly nothing. Anakin kicked off his boots and climbed under Obi-wan’s covers, throwing his arms around the man’s pillow before he allowed the dam to fully break.

…….

Obi-wan could feel it like a shockwave blasting through him, stealing the air from his lungs and strength from his bones. Had he been standing, he might have fallen to his knees from the sheer immensity of it all. He felt the waves of agonizing grief pool around him accusingly, drowning him out. Obi-wan clenched his eyes shut and focused on his breath, willing himself to stay calm, trying to stay the tears from escaping down his face. More hurt and pain roared through him. Obi-wan knew what it ment.

Anakin was awake. And he knew. 

Obi-wan would have taken on all of the suffering if he could. Anakin didn’t deserve any of it. He wished there had been some other way, any other way than what it had come to. Of course he had exhausted all other options. There was nothing else. Obi-wan knew it was going to be difficult, and that this moment would be the most challenging. He just had to breathe through the pain, and hope that Anakin remembered to breathe, too. 

Things would get better with time. Obi-wan had to believe that, for Anakin’s sake at least. Obi-wan would go on with his self loathing, but Anakin would heal. His pain would recede. The assault ravaging their bond would quiet eventually. 

Anakin would move on. 

_Without him._

The thought gripped his chest. 

“Bartender, a drink?” Obi-wan waved his hand, hiding his Jedi robes under the shroud of brown cloak that swallowed him whole. 

The handsome young Mirialan woman tending behind the counter winked at him, pouring up another of what he had last. What it was, Obi-wan hadn’t been sure. Not that it mattered. 

He had nestled himself in the back corner of the first bar he passed once he descended to the lower levels below the temple and senate district. It was seedy to be sure, but close to the temple. Close to Anakin. 

And this was only his second drink, afterall. It was important to keep up appearances to blend in as one of the locals if he were going to make things work. And he _needed_ to make it work, so he would do anything that entailed. Obi-wan acknowledged the drinking stemmed more from his own acute depression than the need to fit in. But it certainly didn’t work against his agenda by any means. 

“Here you go hon,” The Mirialan woman said graciously, setting down the frosty mug by his hand. Obi-wan slipped her a few credits for the drink along with a generous tip for her service. 

“You don’t happen to know if anyone around this block is hiring, do you?” Obi-wan asked, the question laughably contrary to his posh Coruscanti accent and finely pressed robes. He could sense the woman’s amusement at his query, and appreciated how expertly it was hidden beneath her charismatic discretion. 

“The waste management plant just past the edge of this district is always hiring. They’ve got high turnover but more than adequate pay.” The woman said, an edge of reluctance that was just barely audible. 

“Really?” Obi-wan asked, prodding her to continue. 

“Well, I should warn you, that place is notorious for workplace injuries and deaths. I’d hate to see a pretty thing like you get chewed up and spit out by a place like that.” She said, putting a hand on her hip. 

“Thank you for the information. And for the drink.” Obi-wan nodded with a small smile. It was one completely and painfully faked. But such was his entire facade. Anything more than collapsing into a sobbing heap would be as plastic as could be. At least drinks were good for lightening one’s mood, even if only to an extent. Too much and he risked tipping into the heavy end of his sorrows. And that, he wasn’t sure he would be able to climb out of all on his own. 

Obi-wan took a sip of the bitter brew in his mug, hoping it might dull his senses. If he drank enough, he wouldn’t be able to feel Anakin’s debilitating grief gnawing at him from the other end of their bond. He _could_ cut it off altogether, sever the cord, but Obi-wan didn’t want to. He walled off his end as well as he knew how, not wanting Anakin to sense him or try to find him. But if he cut Anakin off he wouldn’t be able to sense if he was in danger. He wouldn’t be able to help him. And that was the entire point of taking the Barash Vow to begin with. 

To keep Anakin safe. 

Because if Zaann had scrounged up enough half cooked research on the Chosen One prophecies to create the plans that he had, it wasn’t far fetched to think that there were others out there waiting to strike. To use Anakin. And eventually, kill him. The council wouldn’t ever suspect it. Mace had assured him of it when Obi-wan had spoken of the possibility. 

No. Obi-wan knew the only one who could really protect Anakin from such threats, was himself. Only Anakin needed protecting from his old Master, as well. It was a complicated predicament that made Obi-wan laugh cynically with hot tears stinging in his eyes. 

He could suffer. And he would. But Anakin would be alright. That was all that mattered. 

Obi-wan wiped the tears from his eyes on the sleeve of his cloak briskly and ran a hand over his face, resting his hand on his chin. What had the woman said? High turnover, good pay, but dangerous. 

Obi-wan had no doubt he could handle the hazards of nearly any job. And there was a good chance of hiding his force abilities enough to seem like someone with incredibly good luck rather than Jedi training. And if not? There were always mind tricks, blackmail, and other jobs to be had. But good pay was a good starting point. Nothing in Coruscant was free, and housing was at an all time premium. 

Obi-wan took a breath, then took another drink as yet another wave of heartache crashed into him. He looked listlessly into his mug of amber colored escape. It would get better in time. 

It had to. 

…….

It didn’t take Obi-wan long to snag a position at the waste management plant. It especially helped that he was more than willing, eagerly and eerily so as far as the interviewers were concerned, to take on the more dangerous positions in the facility. Although they asserted firmly that he would be starting out in one of the more low risk positions, Obi-wan could sense that there was room to move upwards in job as well as pay. But for now he would be working in the sorting room. 

And the sorting room was not so much a room, as it was an entire city block three levels high filled to the brim with different sorting, waste decay and upcycle centers. And for the time being, Obi-wan would be the lead janitor. He only hoped that the job would help him escape the worsening bouts of grief that assaulted him multiple times a day at unpredictable times. His own guilt was hard enough to handle. Feeling Anakin’s anguish and not being able to do anything about it nearly brought him to his knees.

He knew eventually things would lessen. Obi-wan truly hated himself in those moments, and wanted nothing more than to hold Anakin in his arms. But he knew that was never going to happen. The only thing he would be doing was dispatching cleaner droids, repairing broken mechs, and resisting the urge to drown himself with drink at the end of every shift.

Never in his life did he think he would ever be taking a job as a janitor. Though desperate times called for desperate measures. And even though his title was less than menial, the pay was considerable for that level of Coruscant. And that was the most important. 

If he was able to earn enough, he could keep an apartment in the upper most part of what was considered the lower levels. If he saved up for two more weeks he would be able to pay a deposit for nearly any flat on the level he was seeking. Needless to say, it would be easier to take care of Anakin that way, in the chance that he needed taking care of. That was his true purpose, beyond the grimy work that awaited him each morning in the sorting room. He was just on call indefinitely. 

…….

An entire week had passed, and Anakin found himself feeling just as empty as he had when he first learned the news. Obi-wan was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Anakin couldn’t even feel him on the other end of their bond. Every time he reached across to find it empty, his soul felt like it was breaking. 

In spite of his dreary state, a call came through to him on the seventh day after his release from the healing halls. It was one Anakin couldn’t refuse even if he had wanted to. But much to Anakin’s relief, it had been a summons from the only other being in the galaxy he felt he could speak freely with, aside from his former Master. Anakin supposed that made him now the _only_ being to which he could be totally honest with. Or mostly, anyhow. 

When Anakin arrived to the man’s grand office, he felt like he might burst into tears all over again. It had become quite the habit with him over the last week while in self imposed quarantine in Obi-wan’s old quarters, barely leaving to eat. 

The Chancellor welcomed Anakin with open arms as he settled on the sofa at the far end of his office as he had so many times before. Only the circumstances around their visits were usually much more casual. Now, Palpatine’s eyes held a certain amount of concern as he placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, settling down beside him. 

“Anakin, how good to see you. I’ve heard you have been through quite an ordeal.” Palpatine said, skimming over the gist of things. “It seems we have much catching up to do.” The man said with kind, weary eyes. 

The weight of the title _Chancellor_ hung heavy on him as of late, bringing darker circles to rest under his tranquil eyes, and more wrinkles to his cheeks with every passing month. 

Still with all of his duties and obligations to the Senate, Palpatine always managed to find time for Anakin. After the conflict on Naboo all those years ago, they had fostered a friendship of sorts. He always listened with graceful impartiality, and was removed from the dogma of the Jedi, so Anakin knew he wouldn’t be chastised for his feelings. 

So Anakin didn’t restrain himself much as everything rushed out of him in one torrential flood. Palpatine sat patiently as Anakin told _most_ of the harrowing tales from Kraysiss Two, about Zaann and Jerot, how the boy had died saving him and Obi-wan. 

Well, really, in the rush of retelling the story, Anakin had referred to him as his Master still. The Chancellor had been quick to catch his slip up. 

“But Obi-wan isn’t your Master anymore, is he?” Palpatine asked, likely knowing the answer already. 

Anakin had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could speak. “...No,” he said, his vocal chords straining around the word. 

“I’m so sorry. I know you two were very close.” The Chancellor said consolingly, empathetic pain carved into his wrinkled features. Then, there was a pause before he spoke again. 

“You know, I can’t help but wonder why he left. He’s taken the… Barash vow, I believe it’s called? I wonder what drove him to do it.” Palpatine said open endedly. 

Anakin’s heart wrenched. “I know why.” He said, his words trembling on the edge of a sob. 

It was all he had been thinking about that entire week, incapacitated and crippled from the heartbreak that was still too fresh. His thoughts circled him with blame and fault in the most damning ways that he couldn’t pull out of by himself. He didn’t even think he wanted to. 

Palpatine looked at him with steady patience, waiting for him to regain composure and continue. Only composure was impossible to achieve.

“It’s all my fault,” Anakin choked out, before completely unraveling. He buried his face in his hands and shuddered with gut wrenching sobs gripping his core. 

Palpatine put an arm around him in a kind, supportive embrace. “My dear boy, I hardly think that could be the case.”

Anakin hugged himself tightly and cried even harder. The Chancellor waited, one hand gently resting across the boy’s shoulders, the other on a box of tissue to offer Anakin once his sobbing subsided. 

And after he had cried himself out of tears, Anakin told the Chancellor things that he didn’t think he would ever tell anyone. And the man sat tirelessly attentive all the while, only revealing his shock after Anakin had divulged everything there was to tell. His chest felt lighter, but the weight of his trauma still felt like stone in his stomach. 

“Anakin, I’m so sorry this has happened to you.” Palpatine said in a gravely serious tone. “And for Obi-wan to abandon you after everything…”

Anakin’s chest lit with the aftershock of grief. It was dull, and soon would be overtaken by more sadness and self loathing, but Anakin could feel the unmistakable spark of anger light behind his ribs. 

Anger for Obi-wan for leaving him like he meant nothing. 

“But I’m sure Obi-wan had his reasons.” Palpatine amended. “Perhaps he’s afraid he’s not good for you. Maybe he can’t trust himself.” He said, gently damning the man. 

“You almost can’t blame him, to a point. I know he cares about you a great deal.” The Chancellor said, meaning to reassure, but falling terribly short. 

“I just don’t know what else I was supposed to do.” Anakin lamented emptily. 

“There isn’t anything you could have done.” Palpatine said sternly. “Now listen to me, Anakin. All of this has been absolutely awful for you to go through. But you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“It doesn’t feel that way.” Anakin said, dejected. “He left because he knew how I felt. I should never have told him. Then he would still be here.” 

“That’s impossible to know, as well as highly unlikely.” Palpatine countered in a more gentle tone. 

“He just thinks I’m confused because of what happened. You do too, don’t you?” Anakin said in an accusing tone, suddenly feeling raw and exposed. 

“I think what happened could have been _confusing._ ” The Chancellor said carefully. 

“I’m not confused about how I feel.” Anakin said obstinately. 

He was at first, but he had been able to sort through his feelings. He knew that regardless of what had happened back on Kraysiss Two, he had fallen in love. That it had been a slow process, one that had begun long ago. He just hadn’t seen it. But he loved Obi-wan for all of his irritating quirks, for the way he looked when he was deep in thought, for how he had never given up on him. Well, not until recently, at least. 

“I never said you were.” Chancellor Palpatine said softly. “I think you are grieving. It is completely normal and more than understandable. You just need time and space to decompress.” 

“I just need to get away from the Order,” Anakin said irritably. “They already tried to pawn me off on someone else. But I don’t want to train under anyone else. What’s the point?”

“Anakin, you would be giving up everything you’ve ever worked for.” Chancellor Palpatine said, concerned.

“I’ve already lost everything anyway.” Anakin retorted darkly. 

“Now that is hardly the truth.” Palpatine said gently. “You just need time. Maybe there is someone at the temple you can talk to about all of this. Surely there must be someone who can help.” 

“I can never speak a word of this to the Council. If they knew what happened… nothing good would come of it.” 

“Are you certain?” Palpatine asked with soft skepticism. 

“According to the Order, I’m not even allowed to feel what I _feel._ ” Anakin said with growing anger. 

“I’m sorry Anakin, I didn’t mean to doubt you. Sometimes I forget the rules and stipulations Jedi are made to live by. Some of them seem rather… excessive.” Palpatine said lightly. 

“And that’s why I need out.” Anakin said resolutely. “I can’t do it anymore.” 

“Anakin, I think you should reconsider.” Palpatine said earnestly. “You will be a great Jedi Knight. With time I _know_ you will find your place on the council. Then you will have the power to make changes yourself. It would be a tragic loss for all beings in the galaxy if you were to give up now.” 

Anakin listened with a dull ear, numbed by the pain that still ached in his heart. His loss still too fresh. “That’s very kind of you to say Chancellor, but I… I don’t know.” Without Obi-wan the idea of any achievement seemed empty and void of meaning. 

“My boy, just give it time. And if you need space, I have more than enough to spare. I have a guest apartment, actually. It’s been empty for quite some time now. I can have it furnished for you, if you like. Consider it yours- a place where you can rest without the Council breathing down your neck.” Palpatine said with a small smile. 

Anakin’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? I don’t think I could…” Anakin said, stumbling over his words through his surprise. 

“Nonsense, of course you can. Afterall, you are more family to me than most of my own blood relatives.” Palpatine said, a smile in his eyes. 

However he felt reluctant to accept, Anakin did like the idea of having a space to call his own. It wasn’t for Jedi to have possessions, and he wasn’t one to become attached to objects to begin with. But the idea of having a place where he could be absolutely undisturbed sounded heavenly.

“Thank you, Chancellor. I don’t know what to say.” Anakin said, nearly speechless. “I won’t ever be able to repay you.” 

“No need to say anything. And if you want to repay me? Just keep training. It will get better, I promise. Everything mends in time.”


	21. Mutual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!  
> Hope you all had a great weekend.   
> See you again soon!  
> Blu3

_**Two Years Later** _

Obi-wan leaned up against the cool duracrete wall at his back, watching and patiently waiting from deep within the shadows. The air around him hung tepid and heavy with the undesirable musk of filth and decay that made his lips curl with involuntary revulsion. Over the past year he had come to understand the distinct putrid aroma was an inseparable part of the lowest levels of Coruscant.

Each district in the planet’s core had differing variations of it, but every single one of them had the same central notes of excrement and rotting flesh. And it was fitting. The core of Coruscant was a place where no one traveled because they wished to. It was a place where beings with the darkest will ruled as tyrants over the poor and unfortunate that held the burden of being born there to begin with. It was an inescapable gravity well full of misery and regret. Not even the light of day reached down into its depths. 

In moments of weakness where he caved in to the self pity that at times could be quite overwhelming, Obi-wan felt right at home in the heart of it all. Thought mostly he didn’t tolerate such selfish inclinations of thought. He deserved every scrap of misery that came his way. He had brought it all upon himself.

Still, punishment was not the reason for his recurring visits to the Coruscanti underworld. He had a job to do. It was already well past three hours since he had gotten off his shift at the diner, and nearly two hours since his self-proclaimed second shift had begun.

Obi-wan had learned a long time ago, that the only constant in life was change itself. Worlds could die at the drop of a pin, lives could be lost in the breath of a second. Sometimes it was just that quick. It had been when Qui-gon was run through. Other times change happened in a series of moments, stretched out over months. 

Years. 

Though those changes could be just as unfair and cruel. All of the atrocities that had happened between Kraysiss and Devaron came to mind when he thought about it. Each moment he had tried so hard to hold onto what was clearly dying. He had killed it the moment he let himself go too far, he just hadn’t known it yet. It was like carelessly cutting a beautiful flower and watching it wither away. 

Time brought change. And in the last two years, much had changed. But not every change was for the worst. As Obi-wan had hoped, things did improve for the most part. For Anakin, anyways, or at least it seemed. As for Obi-wan, he had always been content to suffer. To pay his dues. 

Obi-wan had never been quite convinced that Anakin would ever be free from the danger of lunatic schemers thinking up plots to use and murder him. Though over time he did suspect that his former Padawan was not, and more than likely _would_ not be in need of his services. But of course, Obi-wan could never be entirely sure. So he stayed just out of reach and out of sight. 

He had built a hollow shell of a life for himself outside of the temple, away from Anakin. Not concerned with keeping any sort of standard of living, Obi-wan always kept enough credits to eat and put a roof over his head. His apartment was bare bones, even compared to Jedi minimalist standards. Aside from the most basic necessities, he didn’t much care. The biggest change to his quality of life since he had taken the Barash happened when he finally left the waste management plant. And even then, he hadn’t been looking to make anything easier for himself. Not even if working with droids day in and day out had eroded his spirit down to a single worn thread. And it had indeed done just that.

Living so far removed from any meaningful contact with other living beings proved tedious. Coming home to an empty apartment where the only things to keep him company were his own stray thoughts had been difficult to endure to say the least. Even worse was when unkempt fragments from Anakin would fall through their bond into his awareness. 

For the most part Obi-wan tried to ignore those things that did find their way into his headspace. If it wasn’t distress or a cry for help, it wasn’t his business. For obvious reasons that mantra was incredibly difficult to hold at times depending on the nature of what meandered into his consciousness. 

Because between work and his painfully empty life outside of it, Anakin was still the most real thing in his life. Every moment of the two grueling years that Obi-wan had managed to stay out of the boy’s line of sight, had always been for him. But those first six months at the waste management plant with no living, breathing being to talk to, had broken him. And that was when he thought he had already been broken. If it hadn’t been for his need to sleep and eat, anyone looking in at his life could have easily mistaken him for a droid in a flesh suit.

But Obi-wan had been too proud to move himself from his misery. It had taken Dex catching wind of him living in the lower levels and insisting that he work for him instead, to leave the plant. Obi-wan had never been sure how the Besalisk had learned that he had taken to living outside of the temple as a civilian, though not for lack of asking. Dex refused to comment on the matter at all, and Obi-wan had far too much respect for his old friend to pry the truth from him involuntarily. 

Truthfully, Obi-wan had been grateful beyond words for the man’s help. Dex had let him work in the back of the kitchen to avoid being recognized by anyone, and appreciated the good company that doubled as good help. While Obi-wan was still incessantly determined to be miserable in order to punish himself, working alongside other sentient beings was a much needed breath of fresh air. 

He still led an incredibly lonely life void of any true meaningful connection, but that was just fine. He didn’t have anything to say to anyone. And just as Dex wasn’t about to divulge one of his ‘loyal informants’, Obi-wan wasn’t going to talk about just what had taken him out of the temple to begin with. Both of them were content with not knowing, and accepting that it wasn’t something that needed to be shared. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. 

Though as Obi-wan had taken up his compulsory second shift, he was sure that Dex’s ever loyal informants had cued him in on that, too. He hadn’t needed the force to be certain of it. One day the man had been all smiles and wry humor. The next, his eyes turned colder. Obi-wan watched him closely that day, not seeing him laugh even once. Seriousness was an odd look for Dex Jettster. And after that single unnerving shift passing in all but silence, Dex only had one thing to say. 

“Be careful out there friend. Discretion... is _everything._ ” He said in gentle warning, not a trace of threat to be found. 

Obi-wan knew Dex couldn’t be fooled. Not that he had ever taken him as a fool to begin with. At that time, Obi-wan had only been at his new pastime for less than two weeks. He reasoned that it made sense for Dex to be concerned. They had known each other since Obi-wan was little more than a youngling. Back then he hadn’t been much more dangerous or fearsome than an angry loth-cat. 

But that uncomfortable interaction had been over a year ago, and they hadn’t spoken about it since. Dex returned to his usual jolly self, and Obi-wan continued to work diligently behind the scenes at the diner. He figured it was another part of the silent agreement between the two of them. Don’t ask, don’t tell. And that was more than fine by Obi-wan.

What would he tell anyone who did ask? Obi-wan didn’t have words. No one could understand his reasons. And anyone who did would be able to see him for the monster that he was. It was bad enough that he was forced to meet the true nature of himself every day. The memories haunted him were even worse. 

It was mostly a selfish reflex to give in to the urge to pay for his debts with service. None of his wrongs would ever be righted, and the act of even trying to pay for them was self serving at best. Obi-wan thought waiting for Anakin to need him would have been sufficient. But seeing as that day was most likely never going to come, he thought that maybe he could pay in other ways. To ease anyone’s suffering would be enough to soothe his own hurt for a short while. And he did find that having a purpose helped make the days a little bit easier to get through. 

So he went down to the darkest corners of Coruscant, waiting to be needed. Many nights he was able to save a handful of innocent beings from being mugged or worse, and had apprehended even more criminals for their misdeeds. 

Ideally, leaving the wrong-doers bound at the nearest police station was preferable. Unfortunately many parts that he had taken to patrolling had no police at all, so Obi-wan had to be creative in his methods of detainment, while trying to frighten the criminals enough to scare them away from immediate recidivism. Sometimes that involved roughing people up just enough to deter them from causing future problems. Admittedly, sometimes he had taken that a little too far. 

He had only been prowling the lowest levels for less than one month when Obi-wan had nearly killed a man with his bare hands. Obi-wan _wanted_ to kill him. He wanted to wring his neck and make him struggle for every last breath. He still remembered kneeling over the man’s body long after he had lost consciousness, pummeling him senselessly. 

Obi-wan had first sensed a bright beacon of fear and pain through the force. It was a dreadfully familiar feeling that sank in his stomach like lead. He never had the misfortune of feeling that himself, but he had felt it in others before. 

In _Anakin._

Following the trail, Obi-wan came upon the man in the vacant hollow of an abandoned warehouse. Before he saw anything, he heard faint weeping from a young woman, her voice quivering with fear. He heard her desperate pleas turn to frantic begging before the sound of violence ensued. Turning the corner into one of the run-down offices Obi-wan caught sight of the girl trapped between the hard surface of a metal desk and the arms of her attacker, pinning her down and tearing at her clothes. 

Obi-wan didn’t remember the specifics after that. He did remember the way the man’s flesh felt as it gave way beneath his fists to the soft slick tissue beneath. The tender raw feeling in his throat left him vaguely aware that he must have been screaming as he beat the man unconscious. He recalled tears in his eyes, obscuring his vision as he came back to himself, trembling and nauseous. He remembered rolling off the man’s body and retching on the cold duracrete floor right after. 

In a shameful afterthought, he checked to be sure the man was still alive. And he was, breathing in shallow wheezing gasps and knocked well unconscious. Obi-wan sensed a handful of broken bones and ruptured organs. The poor tormented girl had run off long ago. 

With a stray sense of morality still about him, Obi-wan slung the bleeding perpetrator over his shoulder and dumped him off by the nearest medcenter. Obi-wan was sure that if his wounds were tended the man would survive. He only hoped that he wouldn’t go on to hurt someone else. 

It wasn’t up to him to decide who lived and died, no matter how badly he would have liked to let that one just die. He danced on the edge of that line one too many times for comfort. But if the wounded man didn’t pull through, Obi-wan only felt remorse for the fact that he had none to begin with. 

But that night continued to haunt him for some time. Obi-wan remembered the horrific savagery he felt in that man, preying on innocent flesh. He wanted to believe that he and that monster were somehow fundamentally different, but he knew they were one in the same. Because Anakin had cried and struggled, too. It made no difference. 

Mostly he tried not to think about it as he went on, hiding in the shadows until he felt a soul in distress or heard a cry for help. The majority of criminals he did apprehend were thieves. In the future when he came upon rapists and other sexual predators he _tried_ to keep a level head. As much as he could, anyways. In those instances more often than not he found himself shaken too much to keep a grip on himself. Typically those encounters ended up with the perpetrator beaten to a pulp and dumped near a medcenter, much like the first. 

But this night in the corner of hell that he had taken to patrolling, things seemed rather quiet. It had been that way since the start of the Clone War- different in unpredictable ways. Some districts were booming with gang violence and syndicate driven skirmishes. And that deep below the surface of Coruscant, police were scant if present at all. 

In some districts the syndicates paid the police to leave altogether, in lieu of keeping the peace with their own enforcers. They ran under government authority, but as all the locals knew, they were far from legitimate. Though mostly they did keep crime rates down- outside of syndicate related crime of course. That was just considered internal affairs.

The district Obi-wan had taken to watching over that past week had been full of violence on every block. It had been almost total chaos, to the point that he couldn’t do much at all other than help innocents escape their homes when locked in by blaster fire. Judging from the stillness, someone had won that small ground war. To whatever end it might have been, it seemed to be beneficial. For now. 

But just as the thought crossed his mind, a pair of shouting voices cut through the droning ambiance of turbo lifts and air recyclers. Obi-wan slowly skirted the shadow of the building he stood beneath, getting close enough to see the fight unfold one level below. It seemed harmless enough. He wouldn’t have even paid attention to it on a typical night shift. But for lack of anything better to do, he lurked and listened to the pair shout back and forth. It was something to do about money and product, and a mismatched amount of the two. 

Then suddenly, a barrage of emotion surged through him, twisted with worrisome images that darted across his mind. Obi-wan took a moment, processing the information just enough to discern whether or not it required action. No matter how inconvenient, when Anakin touched his mind whether or not he meant to, it was Obi-wan’s duty to be ready if he was needed. 

Though this time like the countless other times that preceded it, Anakin would take care of himself. Obi-wan knew he was self-sufficient and that really, even trying to protect him was just an act. 

Anakin wasn’t the Padawan he had once been. He wasn’t a Padawan at all anymore. Much had changed in the galaxy since he had laid eyes on him last, the start of the Clone Wars being just one of those things. Now, Anakin was a General in the Grand Army of the Republic. He had forces and men under his command. And from what Obi-wan had heard, he was quite the cunning and skillful tactician, as well as a strong leader. 

Obi-wan hardly felt anything come across their bond anymore, usually because Anakin would be halfway across the Galaxy at any given point in time. Distance made it difficult to sense anything. 

But even at a great distance, there were two distinct times that Obi-wan remembered feeling Anakin from across the stars. What had come to him had been so much more than stray thoughts and feelings. 

The first had woken him up in the middle of the night. It was the dreadful knowing married with a surge of helpless grief, that Shmi Skywalker was dead. Obi-wan had felt Anakin suffer terribly in the wake of her death, and wallowed in knowing there was nothing he could do. 

The second instance happened not a week later. Obi-wan was in the middle of his shift at the diner when Anakin called out to him in terror, before fading altogether. The contact had been deliberate. Anakin was calling out to him, asking for help. But Obi-wan could feel that he was much too far away to be able to do anything. Even if he set out that very moment to go find him, Anakin would be long gone, or dead, by the time he managed to even get close. 

That day Dex let Obi-wan go home early. That day, Obi-wan did the one thing he didn’t think he would ever do. He contacted the Council, hoping to gain some reassurance that Anakin was alright. After being put on hold for longer than he could stand he was met with the unhelpful message that the council was out, along with many Jedi, on a mission of high importance that could not be spoken of over unsecured links. 

An hour later Obi-wan saw the breaking news. The Clone Wars had begun. And that was the first time since leaving the order that Obi-wan willfully reached out across their bond, probing at Anakin’s mind. With a sigh of relief he felt the boy was alive. His life force was strong. That was all he needed to know. After that he walled off their bond again, as well as he was able. 

He had hardly sensed anything from Anakin since then, which made this most recent accidental incursion of thought even harder to let go of. The nature of things that had come across at times was… inappropriate to say the least. This was no different, even though the context was concerning, he sensed Anakin could handle himself. He wasn’t the Padawan he once was, and was hardly in need of saving. Obi-wan had sensed as much. 

Feeling useless, Obi-wan decided to make for the lift and start his trek back to the upper half of Coruscant. There were still a couple of hours before he would need to catch some sleep, and his favorite bar was on the way up. In theory, a drink or two would help him forget the images that had washed over to his awareness. 

It was a rather rare occasion that he allowed himself to drink at all. As a Jedi in the Order, he refrained from it nearly at all times, to keep his senses sharp and his abilities at the ready. Living as a dishwasher by day and vigilante by night, he had allotted himself two nights per standard month to go to the bar if he chose to do so. And after the night he was having so far, he was glad he hadn’t used those up yet. If he had, he was sure he would have disregarded the rule altogether. 

…….

_**Meanwhile** _

Anakin’s wrists twitched against their restraints as the sting of stiff leather bit into his skin again, leaving tender red welts where the whip snapped against his flesh. He kept a purposeful silence as the blows intensified. There was a sense of sacrifice involved in finding himself, deep down within the emptiness of meditative bliss that could only be found under the whims of another. It was a vulnerable position to be in, one that was... _questionable_ for a General in the Grand Army of the Republic to submit to. 

Strategically it was a disaster waiting to happen, bound and incapacitated both mentally and physically. During these sessions he liked to sever himself off from the force as an added layer of surender. It was a trick Tholme had taught him during their short time together as Master and Padawan. Tholme had passed on a number of tricks in stealth as well as a great deal of knowledge dealing with force manipulation that Obi-wan had never possessed to give.

Of course the trick of blinding oneself from the force, and thus one's presence through the force, was a tactic useful when dealing with other non-friendly force sensitives. If Tholme knew how he had taken to using the skill he wouldn’t have approved, but that hardly mattered. What Anakin did on his personal leave time wasn’t anyone’s business. 

Anakin was careful about his proclivities and even stricter in anonymity with them. The playmates he chose to take home never learned his real name, nor his true profession. As far as anyone was concerned he was the rich spoiled child of some well-to-do in the Republic. There weren’t many other conclusions to be had when someone who wasn’t a senator lived in one of the upper most Senate apartment complex suites. But Anakin didn’t care about the opinions of those he brought home. There were few things he cared about at all, though there were a small number of non-negotiables. 

Being often blindfolded and bound, appearances didn’t quite matter. Voice was more important to Anakin in picking potential playmates. A posh Coruscanti accent was preferred. And as time went on, it had become a necessity. Rough firm hands were also a must. Being handled too delicately made Anakin feel sick.

But of course there were a few hard limits he had always been sure to make people aware of. The first on that list dictated that the glove on his right hand was to never be removed under any circumstances. The second mandated that love was never to be mentioned in any capacity. Aside from that, there was little that Anakin didn’t submit to. 

A strike across the backs of Anakin’s thighs brought a wave of warmth after it. Another one cast across the span of his shoulders, breaking his skin, with second blow chasing right after the last. Finally, it had been enough to draw a small cry from his lips. It was the sweetest of meditative trances, pushing him closer to the edge of what he thought his limit may have been. 

Sometimes he even surprised himself with what he could handle voluntarily, without the aid of the force to take him away from the pain. Completely surrendered he leaned into it, embraced it. And it embraced him as well, cradling him in the arms of total serenity. 

Inside himself he could appreciate the irony of it, how contradictory it was to the code. How completely surrendered passion _became_ serenity. The two were symbiotes of the other, not existing apart from the other. Another lash struck a small cry from him again. His body hummed with sensation, feeling every whisper, every breeze amplified by the static haze of warm tingles that rushed over him in waves. 

The novelty of different playmates kept things interesting and fresh. Some of them were quite creative in their means of domination. Others were rather routine, falling into tried and true methods. After long stretches of wartime with little room to sleep or think, Anakin preferred the more physical aspects of submission. This was the first time he had even stepped foot in his apartment for the last six months, and so far this session had yet to disappoint. 

A hand lightly traced over the lacerations that bloomed on his back and hips, then teased the insides of his thighs making him writhe, pulling tight on the cuffs that anchored his ankles to either bedpost. Then those fingertips brushed against his entrance with feather light touches, making Anakin shudder as he pressed his face into the mattress. The prickle of gooseflesh covered the backs of his arms and thighs, making his welts ache vaguely in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“ _Oh the things I’m going to do to you…_ ” The man all but whispered, his rich accent heavy with intoxication. Anakin had heard the same drawl in the voices of other men he had allowed into his bed- lust drunk and well past delaying their own wants any further. Any sadist took a great amount of pleasure in doling out the sort of things that Anakin had an interest in feeling. However, they usually gave in long before Anakin ever would. He was just someone with something they wanted. And that was just fine. The feeling was mutual, afterall. 

The mattress gave way as the man crawled behind him, knees pressing into the insides of his thighs. Hands firmly gripped his hips in an appraising hold as the man entered him with a soft grunt that tickled Anakin’s belly. He felt the hot pressure of being spread apart and dove into the sensation completely. No matter how many times, it always hurt a little bit. He wanted it to. 

Anakin’s hands gripped the chain that anchored his restraints, feeling the cold metal in his damp palms contrast the hot body that draped over his back, fully seated inside of him. There was a small reprieve to adjust where the icy pain alchemized into aching pleasure before the man took a moderate rhythm, keeping him just on the edge between the two worlds of sensation. 

Skillfully sensing Anakin’s tolerance, the tempered thrusts became more violent. A hand pulled roughly at his jaw, wrenching his head to the side while the other arm wrapped tightly around his ribs, steadying him. Seemingly unsatisfied by Anakin’s lack of resistance the man began fucking him even more roughly, in a way he knew would be painful, perhaps completely intolerable to most. 

And it did push Anakin to the very edge of his limit. He pulled tightly against his restraints as involuntary tears welled in his eyes. This was another moment of surrender, pushing past the pain to find the serenity beyond. His toes curled with tension. There was a core of dull pleasure at the center, beyond the meaty flesh of searing pain that surrounded it. The more he focused on submitting to it, the pleasure seemed to transmute everything else. 

It was rare to find someone who knew how to push him so far. Perhaps it was the months of endless battle that had Anakin so enveloped inside it all. There was nothing quite like being taken, flogged and fucked senseless, especially after going so long without. The demands of being a General in the Army of the Republic made him even more desperate to work out the stress and aggravation of war. It helped clear his head when he went back to the frontlines. 

Usually.

“You want it like this, don’t you?” The man growled in Anakin’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Grabbing a fist full of Anakin’s hair, he pushed his face against the mattress. “ _Don’t you?_ ” He snarled lower, demanding an answer. 

“ _Yes,_ ” Anakin moaned submissively. 

“Yes _Master_.” The man corrected. 

_What would your Master think of you now?_

“N-no.” Anakin countered, feeling a rising panic in his chest. He yanked against the shackles on his wrists and ankles, slipping away from the bliss of surrender and falling into unstable mental territory. 

_He would think you wanted it._

“St-stop,” Anakin whimpered, writhing against the man on top of him, remembering that in the heat of the moment, they hadn’t established a safeword in case something like this were to happen. Pulled from the heart of serenity, all he could feel was searing pain while he frantically fought against his restraints. 

As the delicate castle of submission and surrender crumbled under one fateful word, Anakin felt himself reduced to the scared dependent boy he had once been. The one he had put immense distance between in his time as a Jedi Knight and General. The one who cowered under abuse. The one who waited for his Master to save him time and time again. But he had been long without a Master now, and had long since learned how to save himself. 

Still coming to his senses, Anakin scrambled to rejoin with the force. Helplessness and fear still clawing at his heart, he desperately tore out of his restraints, simultaneously throwing the man off of him and across the room. The man hit the opposite wall hard, leaving a small impression where his head made contact before his body fell to the floor. 

Anakin scrambled to sit upright, pulling the flat sheet from the mattress to curl up in. He had only just become aware that his hands were completely numb with raw panic as he wiped at the tears on his face. He thought he felt something brush against his consciousness lightly, but it left him just as quickly. Easily he dismissed it as a phantom of the thing that haunted him, and put it out of mind. 

He breathed a sigh, burying his face in his hands. His body was sore, his back covered with aching welts and stinging lacerations. Usually those things were accompanied by the warmth of post orgasmic bliss. Now the only thing he felt alongside them was shame and disgust. 

With a bite of sardonicism Anakin thought it strange that the word _Master_ had never made it to his list of hard limits. Clearly it ought to have been there, along with all the other things that triggered him into a less than desirable emotional state. 

The man who came to mind at the word certainly wasn’t terrifying. There was heartache and bitter emotion related to it, but not any fear that he had been aware of. Really, Anakin tried to ignore the fact that he thought about Obi-wan quite often. Even more often when he was tangled up with one of his many random playmates during sessions when he had more energy to fantasize. 

During this last botched attempt at his version of intimacy, he had been more intent on escaping all thought entirely. He needed the mental vacation. But the word _Master_ and the violence he tended to enjoy receiving did not mingle well together at all, apparently. It brought him to all the things that he had worked so hard to get away from. Things that he hadn’t thought about for a very, very long time. 

He didn’t like to associate Obi-wan with those things- the pain and shame and fear that he had felt. Giving in to those things had been the reason his Master had left him in the end, or so Anakin had thought. Well it was that in combination with his feelings for him that had effectively scared him away. Anakin didn’t want to attribute that fear and shame to Obi-wan. He didn’t want to remember him that way. He wanted to remember that kiss he had been lucky enough to steal.

But of course, that was only in the moments that Anakin didn’t feel absolute rage towards the man, which was most times. Obi-wan abandoned him when he needed him the most. Anakin didn’t think he could ever forgive that. He hadn’t seen the man in over two years. Anakin liked to think he had the ability to move on, and that he _had_ moved on. But no matter how many times he told himself that, the fact remained that in nearly every sexual encounter he had, he found himself somewhere else- in the hands of the one man that he knew he could never have. The one that he hated more than anyone else, and the only one he had ever truly loved. 

The man on the floor across the room groaned as he slowly came to, clutching at his head painfully. Nearly simultaneously the com on his side table chirped. It was the Jedi Council summoning him. For them to be contacting him so soon after the start of his leave, he knew it had to be important.

“Wha...What the fuck just happened?” The man across the room said in a distant voice. He was still coming to, with a severe concussion no doubt. It was going to take a certain amount of skill to explain away what had happened. With a touch of force enhanced suggestion, he was certain he could manage it.


	22. Wartime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!
> 
> Sorry for being gone so long. Some personal/family matters arose that needed my attention. Everything should be back to a somewhat 'normal' schedule now that life is returning to 'normal'.
> 
> But what is normal anyway? 
> 
> Anyhow, I have much more to come and I'm always so happy to write for you guys. Thanks for your comments and kudos, it really means alot! I hope you all have a great week!
> 
> Blu3 <3

Freshly showered and his company sent home for the evening, Anakin made his way back to the temple. Even though wartime left the order stretched thin by means of Jedi and Generals, they still did their best to allow for leave as well as they were able. Usually that leave was longer than one rotation. Anakin had yet to see one whole rotation still, as approached the Council chamber.

While it wasn’t entirely surprising that he would be called back so soon, he couldn’t help but shuffle through the possible reasons he might be summoned. None of them were optimal, needless to say. Upon entering the Council chamber Anakin found Masters Plo and Windu there to greet him. Alongside them stood Senator Bail Organa who paced the floor, wringing and flexing his hands nervously. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I wasn’t expecting to be called back so soon.”

“And we didn’t expect to need you back so soon. But you know how it is in war time.” Mace answered grimly. 

“Don’t we all.” Anakin acknowledged. In other circumstances he might have been more irritated about the summons. This time he had been more glad for it than not. It was a welcome distraction. 

“What’s this about anyways?” Anakin asked, eyeing Bail curiously. It was odd to see Organa in his senatorial role, just as he was sure it was somewhat strange for Bail to see Anakin in his official capacity as well. Though his presence told Anakin who the nature of this meeting was more than likely about. 

“It’s Padme.” Senator Organa blurted, half frustrated, half terrified.

“Padme?” Anakin asked, his voice shaded with worry. 

He and Padme had formed quite a close friendship, especially since her apartment was right next door to his own. It was Padme who had introduced Anakin to Bail and Breha back when Obi-wan had first left. Her friendship had helped keep him sane. She pushed him to stay focused when he wanted nothing more than to leave the order. She equally encouraged his darker inclinations, the ones that that Mace would certainly have condemned outright had he known about them. 

“About a week ago Senator Amidala went on a diplomatic mission with one of her colleagues to Cato Neimoidia. We have reasons to believe she’s been captured or otherwise compromised.” Mace explained coldly, in the pragmatic tone that he tended to use often that Anakin couldn’t stand. 

“I told her it was a bad idea.” Bail interjected, glaring angrily at Master Windu. The heavy bags under his eyes told Anakin he probably hadn’t slept since Padme left for Cato Neimoidia. He was sure that Breha had to have been equally troubled over the circumstance, especially now that she was missing. 

The couple doted on Padme and cared for her more than anything or anyone else in the galaxy. While the nature of their relationship held many dimensions, it was much more than purely physical. Anakin dared to think that the two of them even _loved_ her. With Bail so torn up, Anakin could sense his pain transcended that of someone who had just possibly lost his favorite plaything.

“She went with an old friend, Rush Clovis. We had reason to believe he was colluding with Separatists. Senator Amidala was in the best position to investigate the matter due to their prior relationship.” Master Plo said calmly. 

“You think she was found out.” Anakin said. “What was her mission, exactly?” 

“To retrieve any evidence against Senator Clovis. If possible, any other pertinent information.” Master Windu added. 

“She was supposed to make contact at least once per rotation, but we haven’t heard from her since she landed. And that was just over one week ago.” Plo said, a hint of worry in his voice. 

Anakin suppressed the urge to point out that one week was far too slow a response time for his liking. Of course, resources were spread thin. It was more likely that there just wasn't any manpower to spare. Anakin guessed that Bail had probably hounded Mace beyond what he could handle. Organa was indeed, a persuasive man whether you had something he wanted, or were just merely standing in the way. 

“You’re to go in undercover, get to the Senator and get her out. Any extra intel you could gather would be put to good use.” Mace said, stressing the latter. 

“But the safe return of Senator Amidala is priority.” Master Plo amended. 

“You’re damn right it is. It’s the _least_ you can do.” Bail snarled at Mace with disdain. 

“Senator Organa insisted you head the mission yourself.” Mace followed up, giving Anakin a glance of strained patience. 

“I understand. I won’t let you down.” Anakin nodded in a slight bow. 

“A small personal transport vessel is being readied for you in the hangar bay now. You’re going in as a merchant making a deal with the Neimoidians on some questionably attained Sasho gems. Contact has already been established on your behalf.” Master Plo said. 

“That’s plenty enough backstory to get close enough to find Padme. It shouldn’t be a problem.” Anakin said, more than up to the task. “I’ll be on my way, then.” 

As Anakin turned to leave, Senator Organa cased after him only a few steps behind. Once they were clear out of earshot, the man broke. 

“Anakin, you have to save Padme. If something has happened to her… Make sure _nothing_ happens to her. Please.” Bail entreated. 

“You know I’ll do everything in my power to help her. I care about her, too.” Anakin said earnestly.

“I know. It's just- we begged her not to go. You know how bull headed she is once she gets an idea in her head.” Bail said, exasperated and equally defeated. “Breha has been inconsolable ever since she found out Padme went missing.” 

“I’m sorry.” Anakin said solemnly. “Go home to Breha and take care of her. I’ll take care of Padme. You have my word.” 

“You’re a good man.” Bail said in a strained voice, tears welling in his eyes. 

“I don’t know about that, but I like to think I'm at least a halfway decent Jedi. Being a good man has nothing to do with it.” Anakin shrugged. 

“I would insist on coming with you, but I think I would just get in the way.” Bail said in a half-hearted chuckle. 

“Go home and get some rest.” Anakin said. “I’ve got to go. It seems time is of the essence. I’ll contact you personally as soon as I know she’s safe.” 

“Thank you. I don’t think I will ever be able to repay you.” Bail said, exhaustion and emotional fatigue overwhelming him. 

“Don’t even start. No such thing as debt between friends.” Anakin said earnestly. “I’ll be contacting you soon. Keep your communicator on and near by.” 

…….

“Do you always come here alone?” 

Obi-wan slowly and painfully pulled his gaze from the bottom of his mug to look at the girl who sat across from him. Her eyes were bright and piqued, a verdant shade that contrasted the warm violet of her hair that fell down around her face in curling swaths. Her ruthless, energetic cheer grated on his already frayed nerves and it was besides the point, that she wasn't his type to begin with. 

Obi-wan stared at her with the same dull quality in his eyes that he carried most times as of recent. “Do you always bother strange men you don’t know?” He countered dryly, a curl of passive disgust on the edge of his lip. 

As much as he disliked being alone with his own self damning thoughts, he liked the idea of company even less. The sting where Anakin’s mind had brushed against his own still burned inside of him as he struggled to forget it altogether. That meant he was due for a permanent bad mood for the next two weeks, at least. 

“Are you always so cynical?” She answered back quickly. 

“Yes. And quite boring I’m afraid.” Obi-wan ground out. “If you’re looking for someone to keep you company, you should look somewhere else.” 

“I don’t know about that. A Jedi living a double life as a vigilante? What could possibly be more interesting?” The girl said, the brightness in her eyes becoming devious and threatening. 

Obi-wan drained his glass, trying to appear unphased by the words she spoke. If he hadn’t had two drinks already, he would have caught her intent before she had the chance to sit in front of him. He would have fled the establishment long before she stepped foot inside, along with whoever else came with her. Undoubtedly, there were others. He knew there were.

“I don’t know who you’re looking for, but I’m not him.” Obi-wan said, putting on a convincing show, so he thought. Just as he moved to sit up, a shrouded figure moved to sit beside him, forcing him back down.

The last thing Obi-wan wanted was to make a show in a place that he tended to frequent. He worked hard to build a life for himself on Coruscant, and he didn’t want to have to start someplace else. Although the nice thing about living in such a populated place was that even locals had a certain level of anonymity, so long as people weren’t paying attention. And they rarely were. But clearly he had already drawn more attention to himself that he ought. 

Obi-wan started to turn his head towards the shrouded figure but was stopped before he could catch a glimpse. “Don’t look at me, keep looking at her.” A man’s voice spoke, obscured by a modulator.

“In a moment, I’m going to stand and we’re all going to leave.” The man instructed.

“And if you truly think i’m a Jedi, what’s going to keep me from killing you both and being on my way?” Obi-wan asked mirthlessly. He was concerned for the situation, but it didn’t outweigh the confidence he had in himself to manage one way or another. And it most certainly didn’t outweigh the raw, pessimistic dismality he felt festering inside his chest. 

The man draped a hand over Obi-wan’s shoulder and jabbed the cold steel of a blaster muzzle hard against his ribs. “You try anything, you die.” The man said with unamused finality. 

“Fine, fine. Let’s do it your way, then.” Obi-wan ceded, calculating a number of contingency plans in the span of mere seconds. 

“Good choice.” The girl said with a sly smile. Of all the plans Obi-wan held at the fore of his mind, none of them were going to be good enough. 

Just before the man rose Obi-wan felt the sharp pinch of a hypo in his side, along with the soft hush sound of a vial depressing as he was dosed. By the way his vision blurred and how his body suddenly felt heavy, he supposed it was some kind of illegal depressant somewhere along the spectrum between Norbutal and Myocaine. 

It definitely hit harder than Myocaine, which was designed as a muscle relaxer for therapeutic purposes, but it wasn’t quite as severe as the full paralysis Norbutal induced. His mental functions were still sharp as ever, though he found communicating any sort of command to his body increasingly difficult as the drug fully circulated in his bloodstream. 

Obi-wan reached out for the force but found himself blind to its existence. Whatever the toxin was, he had never encountered it before. There had been rumors in years past, of drugs that could sever ones force abilities, but it all had been taken as hearsay. Clearly they were quite real and effective to match. 

“Get up,” the man ordered in a low gruff voice. The girl gave a slight malevolent giggle as she stood, while the man wrapped a hand around Obi-wan’s shoulders, helping him to his feet. 

The world seemed heavy, painted in unsteady streams of color and lights that sparkled almost whimsically around him. Then suddenly, Obi-wan found the bartender in his field of vision. There was a notable worried crease in her brow, even through the lens of whatever drug he had been given, he could see it. 

They weren’t on a first name basis, but Obi-wan had been around enough over the last two years for her to remember his face. She was a kind, unobtrusive soul. She also no doubt had noticed that over the last two years Obi-wan had never once brought company or made any friends. He preferred to drink in peace before he went his way, and never had been so intoxicated that he couldn’t walk by himself. 

“Is everything alright?” The Mirialan woman asked, her voice rife with blatant concern.

Obi-wan’s head began to loll to the side as he tried hard to keep himself upright. Unsatisfied, the mysterious man sent another hard jab to the back of his ribs with the blaster’s muzzle. He needed to hurry it up.

“Yeah,” Obi-wan said, nodding his head as best he could in an attempt to convince the well meaning woman. There was nothing she could do to help him, and alerting her to trouble would only cause more problems, not to mention put her at risk of being harmed as well. 

“Yeah, errythingsss ff-fine,” Obi-wan slurred, supporting himself against the man beside him. 

“My friend here just had one too many. We’ll take good care of him.” The girl said, putting a friendly hand on his chest.

“Alright,” the barkeep said skeptically. Obi-wan could tell she didn’t feel good about it, but really there was nothing more to be done.

His two captors turned to leave with him draped between them, one arm hoisted over each of their shoulders. “If you keep behaving this well, you’ll have nothing to worry about.” The girl said brightly. 

“Enough out of you.” The man growled as they turned the corner, pushing Obi-wan into the backseat of the speeder that was parked there. “Now get in the back and make sure our guest stays compliant.” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that!” The girl snarled. In a flash the man responded with a sharp backhand that caused her to stumble back, nearly losing her footing. 

“You fuck your way to the top and expect me to respect you? Whores are meant to be _seen_ and not _heard._ ” The man muttered. 

“Just wait till the Boss finds out you hit me!” The girl screamed. “You’ll be sorry.” She added darkly. 

The man grabbed her by her arm and shoved her into the back of the speeder, sending her tumbling into Obi-wan who fell over with little strength to pick himself back up, although he did try. Without another word the man climbed into the driver’s seat and set off to wherever it was they were going. 

With angry teary eyes the girl hoisted him up off the floor of the speeder as well as she could before she sat arms crossed, glaring forwards for the rest of the trip. Obi-wan struggled to stay alert, but was pulled further and further against his will until he fell completely unconscious. 

…….

The deadened sting of a slap bloomed on Obi-wan’s face as he slowly came to. A second, sharper slap made his eyes fly open with a gasp. Upon awakening he found himself suspended in electro-binders at the center of a detention room. The man from earlier stood before him. Now he could see that it wasn’t just a simple voice modulator, but a full mask that hid the man’s face. 

Obi-wan reached out for the force. This time without the drug inhibiting him he could sense it, but the act of reaching for it triggered the electro-binders to arc, sending painful jolts of energy lancing through his body.

“Don’t try so hard, Jedi.” The man chided. “You’re not getting out of here. And as much as I enjoy watching you suffer, if you pass out you would only be wasting my time.” 

“I would hate to be so rude.” Obi-wan said in contempt. 

“You think you’re a funny guy, do you?” The man spat. 

“I’m not the one parading around in a costume mask.” Obi-wan countered, still feeling rather spiteful.

This time the man answered with an elbow to the ribs that took Obi-wan’s breath away. It hurt terribly, and he thought he might have fractured something, but it was nothing compared to the searing icy pain the electro-binders had shot him through only moments ago. Although, at least when he was being beaten and electrocuted he didn’t have space to think about Anakin. There were pro’s and con’s in everything, after all.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Obi-wan said, coughing as he regained his breath. “I’m not impressed.” 

The man answered with a harder blow to his side. Now he definitely cracked a rib. If he had any doubt, there was a dull snapping sound to attest. This time Obi-wan had a little more difficulty getting his lungs to remember how to breathe. 

“If you knew what was good for you, you’d shut your mouth.” The man growled. 

But of course, Obi-wan couldn’t resist. “Sure. I’ll keep quiet and you can tell me all about how mommy hurt you and how daddy left. Or... was it your _uncle_ -” The man interrupted him with a solid punch to the side of his jaw, filling his mouth with the taste of warm iron. 

“Touched a nerve, have I?” Obi-wan said with a short laugh that left him wincing from the aftershock of his freshly broken ribs. In spite of the pain, his lips curled in a genuine smile painted with streaks of blood that dripped down his chin. 

“It’s unwise of you to get on my bad side.” The man snarled. 

“Oh?” Obi-wan said, his brows raised in mock surprise. “I wasn’t aware I was on your good side to start. You make these things awfully difficult. Maybe if mommy had taught you to talk about your emotions-” Another crack to his jaw silenced him for a moment. It took a second for it to click back into place, and when it did it was awfully painful, sending a bolt of blinding pain crashing around inside his skull. 

Perhaps his jaw was fractured, Obi-wan couldn’t quite tell. Another punch and he was certain it would be if it wasn’t already. But he didn’t feel he had run out of dry wit quite yet.

Obi-wan spit a wad of blood laced saliva onto the floor to clear his mouth before he spoke. “You know, if you don’t learn how to control your temper, I’m going to be dead long before I’m of any use to you.” Obi-wan said in his holier-than-thou Jedi Master voice that he hadn’t used in a very, very long time.

In answer, the man wrapped his hands- which happened to be quite large, around Obi-wan’s neck tightly making it nearly impossible to breathe. Obi-wan fought against his grip, gasping in ragged strained pulls. Before his vision could go completely dark, Obi-wan heard the sound of a door being thrown open behind him. An unexpectedly familiar voice rang out not a second later. 

“Tomek!” The voice said, booming angrily. Immediately Obi-wan was released, promptly lapsing into a coughing fit while and the masked figure- _Tomek,_ apparently, took a few steps back. “How are you supposed to be collecting intel when you’re letting him get in your head?” 

“I’m just doing my _job._ ” Tomek growled. 

“Just doing your job. Were you _just doing your job_ when you hit Khaleen, too?” The man said in a chilling tone that even let Obi-wan know Tomek was in trouble. 

“That _bitch_ was was out of line.” Tomek said, the tenor in his voice fading noticeably, even through his voice modulator. 

The other man stepped forward while Tomek retreated a few more steps. In the next moment the man brandished a small dagar, pinning Tomek to the wall with the small blade pressed up against his throat. “You’ve been a thorn in my side for months now. Do you really want to give me an excuse to gut you like the pig you are?” The man asked in the same smooth, threatening tone. 

“The next time you even look at her, you’ll be answering to me. Understand?” The man said, his voice twisting into a dark snarl. 

The man seemed discontent with the silence that ensued. He pressed the blade harder against Tomek’s flesh. “Understand?!” The man shouted, demanding an answer. 

“Y-yes s-sir” Tomek stammered. 

“Good.” The man said in a smooth voice, pulling back the knife. “I’m glad we understand each other.” In a flash the man plunged the dagger into Tomek’s side and twisted. The masked man gave a startled grunt as he stumbled to the ground, holding a trembling hand to the bloody wound. 

“You didn’t think you could get away without a scratch, did you? What would people think of me then?” The man said with casual nonchalance. “Now get out of my sight.”

Frantically, Tomek scrambled to his feet and left the interrogation chamber, throwing a fierce glare Obi-wan’s way before leaving. 

Watching the entire display with his mouth agape, Obi-wan finally found himself at a loss for words. Once satisfied the two of them were alone the man turned to face Obi-wan. The golden tattoo that striped his face confirmed what Obi-wan suspected.

“Quinlan?” It was almost difficult to believe his eyes, especially after the display that had just ensued. 

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Vos said with null enthusiasm, cleaning the dirtied blade on his pants before sheathing it in the side of his belt. 

“Are you going to let me out of these, or what?” Obi-wan said expectantly, spitting more blood onto the ground as it steeped into his mouth. “Or are you not the man I thought I knew?” He added in question. Not that he could judge, but it seemed that Vos had strayed far from the code. Just how far, Obi-wan wasn't sure. 

“All things in good time. I’m undercover, if you hadn’t guessed. Your presence has complicated things for me quite a bit.” Vos said, crossing his arms irritably.

Obi-wan nodded in understanding, grimacing as the motion sent a jolt of pain through his jaw. “Well i’m sorry to have caused any trouble, really.” 

“Like hell.” Vos spat crossly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You and your little routine- running around the lower levels like some kind of amatuer hero. Do you know how much you’ve put a kink in my own operation? Twice now in the last month alone I’ve had perps that I’ve been chasing down for almost an entire year die in a bacta tank in some low level under-equipped hospital, due to injuries _you_ caused. Those two alone could have produced, who knows how much valuable information to the Republic if they were turned in and interrogated, instead of killed.” Vos growled. 

“If you want me to be sorry for saving innocent people from suffering at the hands of those sadistic thugs, you’ll only be disappointed.” Obi-wan said bitterly. “The galaxy is a much better place without them.” 

“How about I put that in the official report? Do you know how much I've already gone out of my way to cover your ass?” Vos said curtly, pointing a finger square at Obi-wan’s chest. 

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” Obi-wan replied dryly. 

“It was so obvious. The whole facade you’ve been running. Ever since I heard the reports of some do-gooder vigilante in the lower levels. I knew it was you. I have been _specifically_ censoring all of it from my official reports to the council. Do you know what kind of shit you’d be in if they found out about your little hobby?” 

Obi-wan had thought about it on more than one occasion. The consequences would have been steep. Expulsion was on the list of possibilities. Exile. Imprisonment. All of those things would only make it more difficult to take care of Anakin if the need arose. All of those outcomes were unacceptable. 

“I’ve thought about it once or twice.” Obi-wan said sharply. "Have you thought about what the Council would do if they knew the extent of your own activities? I'm assuming you've censored that from your reports as well. You know, things like stabbing underlings because you feel like it. Things like _that._ " 

“Everything I do, I do for the Republic. But you- you think you’re some tough guy, out there on your own, don't you? Think again.” Vos snarled. 

“You don’t know the first thing about what I think.” Obi-wan retorted, his anger growing brighter. 

“What, you think you’re so fucking hard to see through? I’ll tell you what, Kenobi. You want to give penance? Do it where it really counts.” Vos said, his eyes searing into Obi-wan’s, making him feel uncomfortably raw and transparent. 

“Reciting platitudes doesn’t make you sound like you know a damn thing about what you’re talking about, so don’t even start.” Obi-wan said, crimson spittle flying from his mouth. His body hung heavy from the binders, making his ribs ache, and he was tiring of conversation rather quickly. 

“All I know is day after day, good men die in battle because cowards like you refuse to stand up and fight.” Vos declared. “We’ve lost too many Jedi to count. And you want to run around down here, saving a handful of people to try and save your conscience. Meanwhile the galaxy’s engulfed in all out war. People risk their lives every day. What are you risking?” 

“Some things are more important than moral dogma and failed diplomacy.” Obi-wan grumbled under his breath. 

“Why did you take the Barash anyways? What could you possibly be attoning for?” Vos said, crossing his arms with disapproval. “It’s a bunch of bantha dung if you ask me. _Cowardice_.” 

Obi-wan fell silent with a deeply carved scowl and downcast eyes. He wasn’t about to answer that question, and Vos knew better than to ask it. No one was owed an explanation when someone took the Barash. It was the ultimate disrespect to even ask. 

“What would Qui-gon think of you now?” Vos said in a disheartened voice.

Now, he had gone too far. 

Obi-wan felt a raging fire flash inside of him in the breadth of a second. His eyes flew up and captured Vos’s in a heated stare. “Don’t you even dare say his name.” Obi-wan growled. “You were there on Tatooine when we sent word for reinforcement. He might still be alive if you had bothered to help.” 

“I was undercover, you know that. I had no way to know what a dire situation it was.” Quinlan said defensively. 

“And Qui-gon is still dead all the same.” Obi-wan snarled. 

“And he would have wanted you to stay and train Anakin. Wasn't that his dying wish? You betrayed that. And for what?” Vos said, flaying his soul bare with a string of words that hurt more than he could possibly know. As a flash of haunting memories ran through his mind, Obi-wan returned the purposefully cruel remark with silence. 

His broken promise wasn’t something that had slipped his mind. He lived with that guilt every day, along with all of his other failings that he knew his late Master would be endlessly ashamed of him for. Still, even that didn’t compare to the weight of his own self-cast damnation that he trudged through every waking moment. He wanted nothing more than to escape it, but knew he didn’t deserve such mercies. 

“You know Obi-wan, you were the closest thing I had to a brother growing up. I looked up to you.” Vos said with a touch of remorse. “A lot of people did.”

“Why did you have me brought here, anyway?” Obi-wan demanded. He was well past being scolded and reprimanded. He wasn’t sure how much worse his day could possibly get, but he didn’t want to test it to find out. 

“Your men called me a Jedi which means only so much can be censored from your report to the council, eventually.” 

“You’ve been hot on the cartel's radar after taking out so many members. I’m not really in charge here. If I didn’t make it look like I’m giving my all, they would start to ask questions. My cover would be compromised.” Vos said. 

“You seem to be in charge, enough.” Obi-wan grumbled. 

“Yeah, in this district I am. But this is a big operation. A lot bigger than one corner of the Coruscanti underworld.” Vos replied. 

“Why did they call me a Jedi?” 

“It’s just a rumor. I haven’t reciprocated that one. But really, it's obvious.” Vos sighed.

“How so?”

“A random vigilante rescuing poor souls in distress, never stealing or mugging anyone? Not to mention your acrobatics that borderline the supernatural by human standards. You haven’t been blending in too well.” Vos said with an exhausted sigh. 

“I suppose.” Obi-wan said, reluctant to agree. If Dex figured it out in a matter of weeks, perhaps there was truth to it. He didn’t have to like it for it to be true. 

“I plan on ending that rumor now. If I tell people you’re not a Jedi, then you’re not.” Vos said. “But if I catch you running around playing superhero again, I _will_ tell the council.” 

“So you’re letting me go then?” Obi-wan said in a failed attempt at enthusiasm. “I was just starting to feel at home.” 

“I’m going to give you the opportunity to get out of here. You’ll know it when you see it.” Vos said, choosing to ignore the quippish remark. “And after you get away without using any ‘mystical Jedi tricks’, everyone will see that you’re no Jedi. Just a huge pain in the ass.” 

“I see.” Obi-wan said cynically.

“You’re lucky I’m helping you at all.” Vos said irritably. 

“Please forgive my lack of enthusiasm.” Obi-wan said curtly. “I’ve had better days.” 

“Haven’t we all.” Vos returned. “We might disagree on a lot Kenobi, but I meant what I said. We need you in the war. Regardless of what pushed you to take the Barash. I promise, you’ll get your chance to pay your debts on the battlefront.” Quinlan said earnestly.

“Duly noted.” Obi-wan replied with the same charming lack of eagerness before he spit out another wad of bright red blood. “Now if you don’t mind, let’s get on with it already. I’d hate to hold you up more than I already have.”


	23. Wallow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!
> 
> Hope you all had a good week and an even better weekend.   
> See you again soon, 
> 
> Blu3

Anakin managed to negotiate his way past the outer planetary defenses of Cato Neimoidia with ease. Thanks to the contact that had been created and the true to description cargo of questionably procured gemstones, it was no problem at all. In preparation for landfall Anakin deconstructed his lightsaber and inconspicuously stowed it away in two of the several pockets that ran down the sides of his pant legs. It was disassembled and reconfigured into miscellaneous bits and pieces that looked harmless enough.

To the untrained eye or even the better trained, it would remain undetectable as a weapon. If he found himself in a pinch, he could reconfigure it in the span of a second and have it in hand in the next. It was an exercise that Master Tholme made him run through thousands of times during their stent as Master and Padawan. It was also a skill that had proven useful many times over.

There were a few configurations he knew by heart that had become second nature to him, one of which was a hydrospanner. The other most used was a compass, but it took longer to reconfigure, even if only by a second or two. Having it separated in a handful of different parts always proved the quickest and most efficient upon reassembling. Tholme had disliked the method, calling it sloppy and unrefined. He said that the reconfigured form always needed to serve another function. Anakin didn’t much care. But that dynamic had been the theme of their relationship from the start. 

Tholme, well meaning and understanding as he was, had a particular way of doing most things. It took some adjusting for him to understand Anakin’s seemingly haphazard tendencies. Over time the two of them better learned to adapt their differences into a more synergetic exchange.

Anakin understood that Tholme, while unorthodox and vastly deviated in many ways from mainstream Jedi thought, had a rigid adherence to his own personal code. Most of it had much to do with skill in stealth, and how to craft one's own skill as close to perfection as possible. 

While Anakin appreciated Tholmes many deviations, he had a hard time with any sort of rigid and strict obedience to anything. Anakin’s style was something blended from many different domains and qualities, into something that fit best for him. So Tholme accused his stealth skills of being lax and undisciplined. Anakin preferred the idea that his way of doing things was strategically calibrated for each situation at hand. His approach did tend to be more flexible than that of Master Tholme in most cases, or so he thought.

And that was why Anakin was a General on the frontlines, while Tholme led the charge by means of stealth operations. He crafted a network of covert agents- carefully handpicked Jedi. By the time the first year of war had come and gone Tholme had established either contacts or full fledged agents in nearly all the cartels and syndicates that were involved in fueling the opposition. His systematic prudent approach was good for those sorts of things. 

Anakin did learn much from Tholme, his appreciation for stealth being one of the most far reaching. He learned how to get the jump on the enemy, and how to finish out with a strong offensive. In other words, hit first, and hit hard. Admittedly, his tactics had a reputation for accruing a large number of casualties, but not nearly as many as some generals, Krell to name the most infamous. It was true that Anakin took great risks, but more often than not they resulted in great successes, in one way or another. 

Coming near to one of the many bridge cities Cato Neimoidia had to offer, Anakin angled his craft for Senator Lott Dod’s palace, setting down on the landing pad outside. According to the prior contact made, he was to negotiate trade directly with Senator Dod. However, he found the likelihood of that occurring straightaway rather slim. 

He expected to get put off all afternoon, where any other seller would be asking and insisting to see the Senator to get straight to the business, Anakin would be glad for the downtime. They could make him wait. All the better for him to investigate, find Padme and leave before they even had the chance to know any better.

As he exited the small ship, Anakin was greeted by a couple of Neimoidian ambassadors, along with a face he was forced to pretend he didn’t recognize. At the same time he prayed that the man wouldn’t recognize him, either. Simultaneously he wanted to strangle the life out of him. He restrained himself from doing so, for the sake of the mission.

“You are Tobian Bendix?” Clovis asked, extending his hand for a firm, cordial handshake. Anakin obliged, relieved that the man was playing along. Already he could sense that in spite of acting otherwise, Clovis very much recognized him. Anakin had been in the company of the Chancellor and other Senators enough to be a familiar face to those in the fold. 

“Yes, I am. And you are?” Anakin asked, giving a showman’s smile to Rush and his company. 

“Senator Rush Clovis of Scipio, at your service.” Rush said, smiling nervously at the two silent Neimoidans, who were beginning to look more like personal guards than part of a welcoming party. 

“I don’t mean to be rude Senator, but I believe it was Lott Dod that I was supposed to be meeting with in regard to a trade opportunity.” Anakin said casually. 

“Yes, yes of course. Senator Lott Dod is a busy man, but he will be available to speak with you tonight about your trade proposal, over dinner.” Rush said formally. 

“I understand.” Anakin said, nodding. “I look forward to it.” 

“In the meantime, I can show you to the guest quarters you’ll be privy to during your stay.” Rush said, ushering the group inside. Anakin tagged along agreeably, attempting some banter with the otherwise stoic Neimoidians that followed them. As predicted, such efforts proved unsuccessful. 

“I don’t mean to seem rude Mr. Clovis, but what is a Senator of Scipio doing out here, greeting someone else’s guests?” Anakin asked benignly.

“The interests of Scipio and Cato Neimoidia are tied in many trade and civil obligations, I’m sure you understand. While I'm here to discuss some business, mostly I'm here in a friendly capacity to Senator Lott Dod.” Rush said in a measured tone that hid his true feelings beneath. 

“I see. Well, how friendly of you.” Anakin said flatly. 

Rush didn’t respond by much other than a nod before changing the topic. After winding through a short labyrinth of hallways and lobbies, they arrived to the guest quarters. 

“And here you are. Feel free to rest up or wander around a bit. Dinner will be served in four hours in the main hall.” Clovis said, his hands pursed tightly against one another. 

“Thank you Senator.” Anakin said with a slight bow. An uncomfortable pause hung between them as Clovis held onto Anakin’s gaze with a shine to his eyes that spoke of desperation and fear. The Trade Federation had him pinned, some way or another. There was no other reason for the obligatory silent guard, or for Clovis to be running such lowly errands for Dod to begin with. The whole act wreaked of a power play, one not well hidden at all. 

Anakin retired to the guest quarters for a few minutes until he was adequately sure that the hall outside his room was empty. He knew without a doubt his room was bugged. Every room and hall in the palace was bound to be under surveillance. As long as he was quick enough, it wouldn’t matter. He knew Padme was alive, he could sense her presence somewhere close- definitely in the palace. The only problem was that the palace was a giant place. He would need to zero in on her location before he risked breaking cover. 

Deciding a leisurely stroll wasn’t going to attract any attention, Anakin headed out into the hall to stretch his legs. It took a certain amount of self discipline to maintain proper body language, to keep from casing the palace like he wanted to. He could nearly hear Tholme’s voice in the back of his mind, coaching him to have patience, to stay true to his cover. A well maintained and convincing cover was key, or so the old man told him over and over again. 

Before Anakin had much time to focus on zeroing in on Padme’s position, he ran into Clovis again, this time without his twin Neimoidian babysitters. 

“Senator.” Anakin said carefully, a question in the word. 

“Skywalker,” Clovis said, his eyes darting about as his voice lowered near inaudibly. 

“I beg your pardon?” Anakin countered. 

“I need your help.” Clovis whispered, hunching as if to conceal his words even more. “You have to get me out of here.”

“Only if you tell me where Padme is.” Anakin said, his tone turning serious as his cover bled away. He could reach for it again if the need presented, but hopefully that time was past. Sneaking around and working under cover, while he was more than adequate at doing so, stressed him more than being able to act overtly. He was a man of action, more than he would ever be a man of stealth and tricks. It was one of the reasons he didn’t feel that he had ever been able to truly please Tholme. But it was just as well. He hadn’t ever sought out his approval, really. 

“They’re holding her in the central tower, at the very top.” Clovis divulged, pain in his emerald eyes. “There’s countless security checkpoints and safeguards between us and there. I don’t know how you’re going to make it.” 

“There’s always a way.” Anakin said, his battle resolve taking hold. He would cut down tens of hundreds of men and droids if he had to.

“You have to promise you'll get me out, too.” Clovis insisted. 

“Oh yeah. I’m sure the Senate is going to have tons of questions for you to answer when you get back. Along with a cozy concrete cell for you to rot in.” Anakin ground out. 

“I’m innocent!” Rush whispered frantically. “I swear it! Just let Padme tell you. She’ll attest.” 

“You better pray she does.” Anakin said, finding it difficult not to be menacing. 

“I never meant for any of this to happen.” Clovis lamented. “They’re using her against me. They’ll hurt her if I don’t do what they want me to. I’ve already killed a lifetime’s worth of investments and business relationships to keep her safe. But I don’t have anything left for them to take. And when they find that out… they’ll kill her. And me too, probably.” 

“Don’t worry about that. I’m going to get her, and then all of us are going to leave. After that you can plead your sob story to the Senate.” Anakin said dryly. 

“What can I do to help?” Clovis asked, ignoring the cynical remark. 

“Nothing. Just stay out of my way. Meet me at my ship in one hour.” Anakin said, heading to the turbo lift. 

“You’re just taking the elevator? You think they are just going to let you walk right in?” Clovis asked irritably. 

“Never mind what I think, just be ready to meet me at the ship. It would be a shame if you got left behind.” He replied smartly, watching Clovis frown as the doors to the lift shut behind him. It was time to get to work. 

…….

Obi-wan ran through the crowd of civilians that amassed near the closest turbo lift with a tail of disgruntled syndicate thugs chasing after him. Just as Vos had promised, he had provided a small enough lapse in security for him to slip away. The only problem was the part where he couldn’t use any force enhanced powers to do it. And there was the additional issue of at least one broken rib and a throbbing headache to slow him down. 

Regardless to say, there had been better days. Much, much better days. The thoughts that came to mind pulled strings in his heart that ached badly. Strings tied to memories of simpler times. Hardly anything was simple anymore.

“You’re letting him get away!” One of the grunts shouted as Obi-wan slowed his run to a casual ramble as he headed towards the turbolift, his hood pulled up over his face to hide the smeared blood and bruises beneath. He didn’t want to make a spectacle of himself, the key was to blend in, afterall. Although he was working hard to project a vague disinterest about his presence to the others that surrounded him, it was difficult to say if that alone was going to be enough. 

He heard commotion in the crowd as the group of thugs began to crash through, tearing off hoods and investigating every masculine looking bipedal figure in their sight. Thankfully Obi-wan made it to the lift before they reached him, and he was several levels up before he sensed they suspected he had gotten away. 

It had been the tail end of night when he had pulled himself from the lower levels to the bar where they had plucked him, and now as he ascended he could see the trailing light of early morning stream through the towers above. It was nearly time to start his shift at the dinner, if he wasn’t late already. It would be a grueling shift, but better than being bound and tortured. 

Dex did tell him to exercise discretion, so he probably knew that Obi-wan hadn’t been too prudent. And when Obi-wan walked through the backdoor making a beeline for the fresher, Dex eyed him with that dull unsurprised look that told him he was all but transparent in his eyes. Closing the door and locking it behind him, Obi-wan pulled off his cloak, wincing as he lifted his arm. The pain of his ribs was really starting to settle in fiercely. His face was a mess, and his clothes were thoroughly soiled with blood and grime from his loathsome adventure. 

He doubted he could lift a single rack of dishes without doubling over from the pain it would have caused him. He didn’t need to be starting his shift, he needed to be soaking in a bacta tank for and hour or two until it didn’t hurt to breathe any more. He needed that and a list of other wishes that he would never be granted, too. Obi-wan put it out of mind. 

Taking a wad of paper towels Obi-wan dampened them and began to work at cleaning the blood from his face and neck, then from his shirt. He didn’t need to be gleaming to work in the dishpit, anyhow. After he had cleaned up as well as he was able without going home, he opened the door with a heaving sigh, cut short from another shooting pain in his side. 

Turning the corner to the main kitchen, Obi-wan saw Dex standing in the dish area leaned up against the steel drying line, two of his four arms crossed over his chest with a frown on his face. 

“What?” Obi-wan asked, his head cocked to the side irritably. Suddenly he became aware of just how tired he felt. The drinks from the night before compounded by the drug they had given him felt like nothing with the adrenaline that had fueled him in his escape. The pain had given him an even sharper focus. But now, he felt tired. Truly exhausted beyond compare. 

The only thing he could liken it to was the few times he and his late Master would stay up for days on end during missions out of necessity. And then, they hadn’t been making it harder on themselves by drinking or using tranqs. They had even taken a stim here or there to stay alert, if they didn’t have a few minutes to spare to meditate past the fatigue.

Dex chuckled with amusement. “Obi-wan, go home. You look like hell.” 

“But it’s my shift-”

“Your shift started half an hour ago. But that’s not the point. You never listened to what I told you.” Dex said sadly. “And now you’ve gone and paid the price.” 

Obi-wan looked at the man with a confused frown. “Are you firing me?” 

“Firing you?” Dex let out a genuine roar of laughter from deep in his belly that washed over Obi-wan in a wave of relief. “No.” He said, slowing down to a chuckle as he wiped a tear from his eye. 

“Oh,” Obi-wan chuckled then winced, holding a hand to his side.

“Now that would be an insult to injury, wouldn’t it?” Dex said grimly. Obi-wan gave no reply. “Now didn’t you hear me the first time? Get out of here. Go home.” He said in a lighter tone with a friendly smile on his face. “A little bacta wouldn’t hurt either.” 

Obi-wan sighed. “Thank you Dex. I really don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“Me neither kid, me neither.” Dex said, shaking his head.

Before he was told to leave again, Obi-wan grabbed his tattered cloak and headed for the door. “I don’t want to see you for at least two days. Take the time and rest up, I get the feeling you need it. And when you do come back, make sure you’re on time!” 

“You got it.” Obi-wan said with a nod as he left, the door shutting slowly behind him. 

With a heaviness in his step, he made his way back to his apartment. While he needed the time to heal, it was both a blessing and a curse to actually have time off. It meant he would be alone with his thoughts, which were still very dangerously close to derailing him emotionally altogether. With no other suitable options, he consigned himself to wallow. This time, he would have to do so without the aid of alcohol. Having so many days off of work, it wasn’t a luxury he could afford. 

…….

As the turbo lift set into motion for the highest floor that he was allowed without extra security clearance, Anakin carefully disengaged the camera before he removed the top hatch of the car and climbed atop. He set the hatch back perfectly, so that hopefully, no one would be the wiser. Or by the time that they were, he would be long gone. Padme with him. And Rush, too, if he managed to get to the ship in time. 

Anakin had meant what he said. He didn’t have much stock in seeing Clovis out alive, and he didn’t really care either. He knew that he should have cared, and the Jedi inside himself knew he was supposed to be better than that, but he was still void of the capacity. He supposed that Padme would insist on making sure he got out, too, and that would be good enough for him. If Padme set her mind on it, there was nothing he could do to dissuade her anyhow. 

Finally the elevator lurched to a halt. Looking to his right Anakin saw a series of rungs that lead all the way to the top of the shaft. Grappling on, he began climbing, being sure to miss the pressure sensors that were set to trip for an intruder. Thankfully most intruders weren’t force sensitive and trained from childhood, or else the security measures would have been much more difficult to get past. 

Making his way onto the top floor’s entrance he looked above, seeing a ventilation duct large enough for him to fit through. Pulling out the screws that held the guard plate in place, he jumped up to catch a hold of the edge of the passage and pulled himself up. It was a tight squeeze, and a rather uncomfortable one that made him less quick than he would have liked, but it was better than the alternative of entering through the elevator doors. It was better to stay hidden for as long as possible, at least that’s what Tholme would have cautioned. 

Finally coming to a point where Anakin sensed minimal life forms, he pulled lifted the grate from its slot in the air duct and gracefully leapt down to the hallway below. It was somewhat surprising to see the entire place empty, but with only one objective on his mind he brushed the thought aside as he sought out Padme’s cell. 

He sensed her near as he carefully walked down to the door that sat at the end of the hall. It was protected by a keypad for entry. He was sure he could figure out the passcode if he truly wanted to, but his patience ran thin. Pulling all the parts of his saber back together as it returned to his hand, Anakin cut the locking mechanism through with a bright slash of his blade and pried the door back on its track until there was enough of an opening for him to squeeze through. 

“Ani?” Padme croaked out, her face stained with streaks of black mascara where tears had washed out her carefully painted face. Her lips were cracked and red from neglect, and her face looked shockingly gaunt. Upon realizing it really was him, her warm brown eyes lit up with a spark of hope before they brimmed over with tears of relief.

Anakin went to her, slashing her restraints that pinned her to the wall and catching her as she stumbled forward. Padme collapsed against him, her knees giving out the moment they held her full weight. A surge of emotion flooded through her- vulnerable hopelessness giving way to sudden grief. 

“I… I thought-” Padme started, afraid to voice what stirred inside of her. Anakin could feel the shame that surrounded the core of her muddled emotions. Between starvation and whatever torture she endured, she had given up any hope of rescue.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re safe now. I’m getting you out of here.” Anakin assured her.

Shaken, Padme nodded her head, still clinging to him for support. “Do you think you can walk?” 

“I’m… I’m not sure…” She said hesitantly, her legs shaking under her weight. Anakin saw the red raw marks on her wrists and ankles. She had probably been bound to that wall for the entire week she was missing.

“Here, I got you.” Anakin said, hoisting her up into his arms. “Just hold on, alright? We’re getting out of here.” 

Padme wrapped her arms around his neck weakly, her hands grabbing onto his clothes for better purchase. “What about Clovis? We have to get him out, too. They’ll kill him.” Padme said, her voice warbling. 

Before Anakin had a chance to answer, he heard the echo of footsteps down the hallway. “See? I told you, he’s here just like I promised!” Clovis shouted. 

“Don’t let him get away!” A Neimoidian voice said as hands began to work at prying the door open the rest of the way. 

Holding Padme securely with one arm, Anakin held his saber in the other, slashing the blade through the opening in the door, severing off a few fingers and hands as he did. Horrified screams echoed in the hallway beyond as a few Neimoidians clutched their wounded limbs close to their chest, the smell of charred flesh rank in the air. 

Blaster fire flashed past the broken door, forcing Anakin to retreat behind the cell wall. Padme clung to him tighter with her limited strength, arms shaking with effort. Anakin eyed the door, cutting down another guard that attempted to advance on them. Quickly and as gently as he could, he set Padme down to lean against the wall at his side. 

“I just need to get rid of these guys, wait here.” Anakin said, slicing through the next person who thought it would be a good idea to enter the cell. Already there was a small pile of shorn limbs and fingers on the floor from the various guards that now whimpered in the hallway as fresh, intact bodies waited outside for him to appear. 

Anakin peered around the corner, reached out and pushed a blast of force energy down the corridor, knocking most of the guards over. Clovis cowered at the back corner of the hall behind one of the injured Neimoidians, his small irritating eyes glimmering with fear.

A new rush of blaster bolts aimed straight for him raced down the hallway at a blinding speed. In Anakin’s mind the scene slowed to the point that he could see each incoming bolt with clarity. He refracted each one in kind back to its source, killing all of the guards and leaving Clovis untouched. 

“You killed all my men!” Dod shouted from his place, huddling behind Clovis.

“I can extend my services if you wish, Senator.” Anakin said, standing square in the center of the hallway before he started marching towards them. “It would be my pleasure, really.” 

“No, no- just get out of here. Take Senator Amidala with you, that’s who you came for isn’t it? It seems her usefulness has expired.”

“Oh, I will. And when we get back to Coruscant, i’m sure the Senate and Council would just love to hear about you taking another Senator as a prisoner. Oh not to mention extortion- _if_ that’s what really was going on here.” Anakin said angrily, glaring down at Clovis. 

“You can’t _prove_ anything.” Dod insisted, rising to stand, shaking a finger in Anakin’s direction. “Senator Amidala was being held for violation of Neimoidian law, it’s all been thoroughly documented. Clovis has been here on business. And you were unlawfully intruding a detention facility. There’s nothing illegal about any of that, is there?” 

“We’ll see if the Senate sees it that way. Somehow, I doubt it. Nice try though.” Anakin said smugly. 

Going back to the cell, Anakin took Padme back in his arms and turned to walk down the hallway, through the heaps of dead bodies, and disembodied limbs. 

“You’ll pay for this Dod. You can’t talk your way out of this one.” Padme spat as Anakin called the elevator. 

Finally the elevator reached them and the doors opened. When Anakin stepped inside, Rush moved to follow after him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Anakin asked, thoroughly amused. 

“You said you would get me out, too.” Rush said, more of a question than assertion. 

“That was before you betrayed me to Dod. You can stay here and work things over with him. I’m sure there’s going to be lots for you two to talk about.” Anakin said as the doors closed, leaving Clovis alone with Dod on the top floor. 

“You should have let him come, too.” Padme sighed. “Dod was using me against him. Clovis gave up all of his investments and property just to keep me alive.” 

“And then he betrayed you.” Anakin said simply.

“He was scared. He’s a coward, you know that.” Padme returned. 

“I can think of two other people who share my feelings on the matter.” Anakin said stubbornly. 

“How are they doing?” Padme asked reluctantly, knowing the answer in part. 

“Honestly, they’re broken over what's happened. Bail had to beg the council just for them to give me the mission. I think they would have called me sooner, but I was on the battlefront. The moment I got back they called me in. Bail was nearly in tears. Breha isn’t doing so great about it either.” Anakin said, not wanting to skew the truth. 

Padme took a breath, on the edge of tears. “I never wanted them to worry,” she sniffed, clearing her throat. 

“Well good luck with that one.” Anakin said in a short laugh that made Padme smile. 

“I guess you’re right. But they know I can’t just stop everything because they don’t want me to be in danger. The job always comes first, before everything else. Even them.” Padme said sadly. 

“They know that, too. It doesn’t change the fact that they are going to worry about you.” Anakin said bluntly. “You can’t blame them.” 

“No, I suppose not.” Padme agreed. 

The short jaunt to the ship was awkward and uncontested by the guards that milled about. The one good thing about Trade Federation cronies was that they always knew when to give up. They weren’t interested in fighting a losing battle. And going up against Anakin was very much that. 

Climbing aboard the small freighter still brimming with jewels, Anakin laid Padme down on the retractable med table and administered a nutrition hypo to help her get some strength back. Then he went and kicked the ship into hyperspace and sent out a short message to Bail and Breha that Padme was alright before he helped move her to the more comfortable loungers in the midsection of the ship. 

Already Anakin noticed some color return to her face. Taking off the week-old smeared makeup probably helped her look in better sorts, he figured. Padme smiled at him with a tired, sad smile that slowly changed into a frown that just barely held back tears. That same shame stirred in her again, he could feel it as if it were his own.

“Oh Ani,” Padme gasped, clutching a hand over her lips, her cinched eyelids spilling tears that fell down her lashes. “I gave up. I thought… I thought I was going to die in that place.” She cried out, holding back sobbs as well as she could. Of course a few made it past her tightly held defenses.

“It’s over now, Padme.” Anakin said consolingly, taking her hand in his.

“But I gave up.” She choked out. “How could I?” She laughed bitterly. 

“You were malnourished. That has a way of changing the way your mind works.” Anakin stated in fact. 

“But I gave up so fast. Three days. It only took three days.” Padme said, on the edge of more tears. 

“Bail and Breha would be so ashamed of me if they knew…” Padme cried.

“No they wouldn’t.” Anakin said seriously. “They love you.” 

“I just want to forget that feeling. I don’t think I can.” Padme said, jaded. 

“Padme,” Anakin said quietly, looking into her pained eyes. “I know what it’s like to feel helpless. Powerless. And no, you won’t ever forget what that feels like. But-” Anakin said, pausing as a wave of memories flooded him. 

Being naked, used up in a Sith ritual. Being roughed up by his Master’s hands, by someone who was not at all the man he called Master. Being beaten by thugs to hear his mother suffer terribly in the next room while he couldn’t move. Helpless. Powerless. That feeling crawled on his skin, as real as the first time he had felt it.

“I promise, there is more. There will be more, and it will get better. And just because that happened, doesn’t mean you’re weak. Breha and Bail would never think less of you for it. _I_ don’t think less of you for it.” Anakin said truthfully. 

“Thank you Ani.” Padme said, this time tears of relief falling down her sodden face. “Thank you.”


	24. Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!  
> Hope you are all having a lovely holiday season, wherever you are!   
> Finals are coming up so time is limited, so if there is a lag between this and the next chapter, that is why. Still, I would estimate no longer than 2 weeks between chapters.  
> See you again soon!   
> Blu3

One ration bar and two cups of caf later, Padme began to return to her usual self. After rehydrating with some water and another vita stim, nearly all traces of the festering darkness within her had cleared. Of course there were the latent roots of it that held fast deep down, but it was only natural after what she had been through. Anakin almost envied her ability to put things out of mind so easily, but mostly he was glad she was feeling so much better already. With all the talking and laughing it almost felt like old times. Before the war, when his only worries had been how to survive under Master Tholme, and how he would justify or explain all the time he spent away in his apartment, or off in the lower levels. 

Those times had still been simpler. He wouldn’t dare to say better, but absolutely simpler. He learned so much about himself during those days, who he thought he was, and what he wanted. He thought at the time it would bring him some measure of peace. It hadn’t. He learned how to seek out those moments of zen tranquility instead, to find his center, among other things. And Padme was there goading him along the entire way, entirely too excited to encourage his habits.

She had even brought him home to Bail and Breha once or twice. He quickly discovered the level of commitment that they wanted from him wasn’t something he was willing to give. He almost regretted not pushing past that reserve, but held true regardless. Anakin was determined to not let anyone get the emotional upper hand over him ever again. Love was power. It was too much power- more than he would allow any one person to wield over him. 

Even still, Padme loved the ever elusive chase to find the perfect playmate for him. Anakin suspected it was even more entertaining for her than himself. Of course after the war began, time for such games diminished altogether. Padme was busy with her Senatorial duties and Anakin was sent to the battlefront, where he quickly ascended into Knighthood. Those first few months had turned the boy he had been, into the man he had become. He and Padme had hardly spent any time together since the Clone Wars began. 

So the trip between Cato Neimoidia and Coruscant felt like a much needed chance to catch up on the latest goings on. While there was some small talk on the war, strategies and issues, mostly they avoided it out of pure exhaustion on the subject. 

“You know, Bail still talks about you. He misses you.” Padme said. 

“I’m flattered.” Anakin returned with a half-smile. “Bail… he’s intense. You know that better than anyone aside from Breha. That’s not for me.” 

“He is.” Padme said with a warm smile. “And I understand. But really, the four of us ought to do dinner some time, or... _something_.”

“Yeah, let me just schedule that between the planetary invasion next week and the battle after that.” Anakin laughed. 

“I know. It’s silly. I just miss the old times, I guess.” Padme said whimsically. “Maybe next time you’re on leave, we can go out like we used to. Find you Mr. right for the night?” Padme laughed. 

“To be honest, I think I’m just taking a break. From all of it.” Anakin said grimly, trying to pull himself from the shock of his latest encounter as it came to mind again. He could feel his skin crawl, his chest tighten. He pushed past it, bringing himself back before it could take full hold. 

“Really?” Padme said with disbelief. “You?” 

“Yeah.” Anakin said seriously. 

“Did something happen?” Padme asked, worried. He could feel unspoken words clattering around inside her skull. He had seen that face before, too. The last thing he wanted was pity. 

“Yes? No?” Anakin said, frustrated. “It’s just me, you know? Nothing _happened_.”

“Alright, I believe you.” Padme said with a skeptical glance. “And if something did, you would tell me, right?” 

“What do you think?” Anakin shot back, a little sore for the question. “You’re my best friend, what else are you for if I can’t tell you all my deepest darkest secrets?” He said, the grim look fading to the start of a reassuring smile. 

Padme smiled back at him. “I guess you have a point.” Between breath and her next word, the nav computer chirped out calling Anakin back up to the helm. 

“Back to Coruscant already.” Anakin said with a touch of melancholy. If only some moments could last a little bit longer. Time in the company of a trusted friend was a rare commodity in better times, even more so now. 

Anakin grabbed another water pouch from the drawer of rations and supplies. “Here, try to get another one of these in before Bail and Breha lay eyes on you.” He said, rising to his feet and striding over to the front of the ship. 

“Is it that bad?” Padme asked, ripping off the top of the pouch and bringing it to her lips. 

“Not necessarily, but I know how particular Bail is.” Anakin called over his shoulder. 

“I don’t expect him to willingly let me out of his sight for the next standard year at least.” Padme answered back. “Not that he has a choice in the matter. The Senate always comes first. Our arrangement hinges on Bail and Breha understanding and accepting that.” Although for the Organas, they didn’t have to like it to accept it. But Anakin wagered that they wouldn’t trade Padme’s willful spirit for anything or anyone. 

“Alright, strap in. Exiting hyperspace in three,” Anakin called out in warning as he switched the autopilot off and cycled the hyperdrive down just outside of Coruscanti orbit. 

As the starlines drew back into white points, the scene was quickly eclipsed by the massive gray durasteel hull of a transport cruiser. Anakin pulled up hard on the yolk to avoid the deadly collision he saw unfold in the back of his mind, seconds before it might have occurred. 

The evasion put the ship in a tight barrel roll that Anakin had just barely under control. He could hear the clanging and bashing from an unsecured drawer, spilling its contents in the small lounging space where Padme was belted in. Quickly he was onto the next evasive maneuver, making a sharp dive down to dodge what seemed like a line of traffic that backed up far past what he had ever seen before. 

Engaging the stabilizers and thrusters Anakin worked to slow the ship down as quickly as possible without crashing into anything or anyone. The airspace outside of orbit was littered with vessels and transports of all sizes and purposes, he could just barely see them in a blur of blackened metal and lights as he tumbled to a halt. He’d never seen such a gridlock in his entire life. 

Really, it didn’t even qualify as gridlock. At least then, there was a set pattern to the madness. Now, he couldn't sense any order to the chaos outside. Just before he came to a complete stop Anakin squeezed between two vessels, clipping one of them on the corner, causing the entire ship to lurch to a halt.

“Padme?” Anakin called out, as he unfastened his belt and sprinted over to the lounge area. 

He could see pouches, canisters and ration bars scattered everywhere. Thankfully they didn’t carry enough mass to deal a killing blow, but being pelted with them would, and did leave a mark. 

“Padme, are you alright?” Anakin asked, rushing to her side where she sat clutching at her forehead with traces of blood pouring through her fingers. 

“Yeah, I think I might have a concussion though,” Padme answered, coherently enough to make him feel slightly better. 

Anakin scrambled over to one of the secured drawers for a med kit, withdrawing some supplies to make quick work of a bandage. “Here, let me see it.” He said, wrapping a spool of gauze around her head a few times until he was satisfied it would stay in place. 

In the next moment he pulled all the debris up off of the floor and stowed them away with a swift motion of his hand. “I’m sorry, I forgot to secure the drawer. Are you sure you’re okay? As soon as we land I'm taking you to the temple healers.” 

With the screeching sound of clashing durasteel, a surprise collision sent Anakin stumbling sideways a few steps. It wasn’t nearly as violent as the last, and he managed to right himself without falling. “I’ve got to figure out what’s going on, just hang tight.” 

“What _is_ going on?” Padme called out hoarsely as Anakin ran back up to the helm, steadying himself again as another hit on their ship’s hull threatened to knock him off his feet. 

“I wish I knew.” Anakin said, bewildered. Turning off the auto stabilizers he began to gently dodge ships as he worked his way to orbit, or as close as he could get to it. He could sense something was wrong on a massive scale. And it was more than the nightmarish traffic telling him so. He could feel it like black tar in his gut, and it only got worse as he neared the planet below. 

Keying on his com, he tried to get ahold of the temple. All he got was the automated message saying all lines were busy due to unusually high call volumes, and to try again later. With a frustrated sigh he turned on the radio instead, tuning into one of the local news stations that broadcasted down on the surface. Due to interference from the massive sea of ships he was lodged within, it was difficult to find, and hard to hear once he did. But even still, the message was clear. 

“...Nearly one hour ago three separate bombs… Senate Rotunda.... Thousands of casualties and counting…” The voice said, garbled with static. Anakin felt his heart slam against his ribs. 

“Chancellor Palpatine,” Anakin whispered as his eyes drew tight with panic, right before the Jedi Knight and War General took hold of his mind again. 

He felt his body relax and his mind clear as he willed himself to focus. It was a reflex he had honed on the battlefield, and it served him well. The pull to rush to the Chancellor’s side was significant, but there was Padme to think about. Besides, he would need to get back to the temple as quickly as possible. The sick feeling in his gut still gnawed irritatingly, worsening still. He observed it with foreboding curiosity, wishing he knew what it was telling him. He supposed he would learn in time. 

“All extraplanetary traffic… closed until further notice…” The voice scratched and stuttered. It made sense, and would certainly account for the sea of ships he was now nearly locked within. Thanks to his extrasensory abilities he was able to edge his way towards orbit, which now he could see was shielded off, limiting all traffic through designated security rings. As quickly as he could while safely doing so, he made his way to the nearest ring. 

“Ani?” Padme said, her voice careful. She was scared, he could feel it like damp ice on his skin.

“I’m getting us planet side, to the temple.” Anakin said in a sturdy reassuring tone. He began to help coax the ship along further, gently pushing the other vessels away with a touch of force. 

“Do you think-”

“They’re fine.” Anakin answered. “And you will be, too.”

“I hope so.” Padme whispered. Anakin couldn’t hear her, but he felt the prayer leave her lips as a flutter through the force. He pushed it along with an extra plea of his own, asking that everything would turn out alright. He was used to battles, used to feeling tumultuous losses of life sweep across horizons and battlefields. But this was _home_. The Jedi Knight within him told him there was no difference, but his heart knew better.

Anakin finally edged his ship to the nearest security ring and hailed the officer on the ship com, rattling off his name, rank and command as he demanded to be let through “ _On the Chancellor’s orders,_ ” he said, knowing he might as well have had them. He knew he did in spirit. Eventually he was granted access. 

Straightaway he made a beeline for the temple. It was quick to get to, since the entire district was sequestered off from the rest. No air traffic was allowed within its proximity. Thankfully his transponder codes assured no police harassed him on his way back, though it didn’t appear there would have been enough to spare to begin with. 

He had to hail the hangar, since the doors were locked down. On Master Windu’s approval they were allowed to yield to let him in. When he landed, he saw a chaotic mass of grounded speeders and speeder bikes, some of them thrashed slightly and others in mint condition. Anakin wondered how many of them had been out and totally obliterated by the blasts, along with whoever might have been using them.

Taking Padme up in his arms, Anakin marched for the healing halls. He still felt the black tar in the pit of his stomach, only now it felt like stone. Eerie in equal measure, as soon as he entered the medical wing he saw it nearly completely empty. They hadn’t rescinded lock down to take in many injured, and there was still the threat of another straffe of bombings that had the entire district on strict lock down.

Anakin set Padme down in one of the empty med rooms and hailed a healer over to attend to her. 

“They’re going to take good care of you. It’s the best medical care this galaxy has to offer, I promise.” Anakin said. “I would stay, but-”

“You can’t. You have to go and do what you Jedi do.” Padme said understandingly. “Please make sure they’re alright.” 

“They are. And I will.” Anakin promised. “I’ll be back when I can.” 

…….

The front door to Obi-wan’s apartment got stuck on its tracks a little less than half way open. He had called it in to be fixed over three times, but he had never been so thoroughly frustrated by it until now. His jaw ached, it felt like he was being stabbed in the side with each breath. His eyes were heavy and tired with fatigue from lack of sleep, from being drugged, from the emotional exhaustion of it all. And his front door stood on its track, nearly half way open, taunting him. 

With a snarl Obi-wan wrenched the door back violently through the force, not caring if anyone saw him do it, though he suspected there were no bystanders to witness. He crunched it shut in the same manner, probably breaking it worse in the process. 

Sauntering to the fresher, he tore off his clothes piece by piece, wincing each time he bent or moved his arms over head. Forcing himself into the shower he quickly washed the blood and grime off of his skin, not staying in a moment longer than necessary. After rummaging to find all the bacta he could, he smeared gobs of it on his freshly bruised sides and jaw before he promptly collapsed on the sleeper and fell fast asleep.

For the next standard rotation the only time he got up was to drink water or use the fresher. And for as deep as his sleep was, it was equally restless. A handful of times he felt himself startled awake by things he had seen and couldn’t remember. Easily he wrote it off as a side effect of whatever drug he had been exposed to, coupled with the possible concussion he was suffering. 

Though as his body worked to heal itself, knitting together flesh and bone where all had been broken, the vision became clearer. As his mind rested between fits of fear and wakefulness, his recall of it improved. Losely he held the vision in his mind at a distance, something in a haze on the horizon. It played on loop in the back of his mind, like a song playing in the next room over. Aware, yet unaware at the same time of its presence. 

With dull eyes looking at the durasteel ceiling of his clean, scantly decorated apartment, it flashed before his eyes. He could see the blooms of bright orange-white light, feel the shock wave wash over the city through the air, through the inhabitants who gasped and cried out. He observed it with an empty, exhausted mind as he drifted off again. 

This time he could smell the ash, the ozone char that hung rank in the air as hulking chunks of duracrete and sheets of metal cascaded down from the blast. The look of the place was familiar, the vats and sorting bins were broken and crumbling, but still recognizable. Wires and broken pipes spewed out sparks and torrents of caustic liquid hung overhead.

Master

He could barely hear it through the sirens and rushing sound of burst pipes. He felt it more than anything else, and it pulled at his heart painfully as he felt himself descend into near total panic. Obi-wan rushed into the crumbling recycle plant to the epicenter of the blast. His heart pounded hard in his chest as he called out, searching. 

He couldn’t hear his own voice over the drumming in his ears as he searched through the rubble, working his way closer to the heart of the plant. Turning another corner, he found the epicenter. Where the proton upcyclers used to be had turned to black ash and broken stone reduced to pebbles, mixed with bits of torn and warped metal strewn about from the sheer force of the explosion. Thrown out against the far wall in the mess of it all, Anakin lie mangled on the stone floor. 

“Anakin!” Obi-wan screamed, wrenching his eyes open as he flew from his sleeper, crashing onto the floor. 

“No, no no,” he murmured, pulling himself upright with a fair amount of pain in his side. His bones felt mostly mended, thanks to a few simple self-mending force skills he had learned as a youngling, along with a scrap of bacta. The soft tissue was still far from healed. He couldn’t take much more without breaking himself even worse than before, but he hardly cared about that. 

With shaky, unsteady hands Obi-wan fumbled around for his com link that usually lie on his bedside table, but now it was nowhere to be found. With increasing frustration he began to tear the room apart, pulling the sheets off the mattress, shaking out each piece of clothing he could find to no avail. Maybe if he could get word to the temple in time they could help, he thought in desperation. At the very least it was the quickest action he could take in the moment, and he wouldn’t be able to stand still even if he tried. 

“The fresher-” Obi-wan told himself. He scrambled over to the small room where his discarded clothes lie in a heap on the far corner of the floor. Still no luck. Throwing his clothes down with a growl, he put a hand over his face in immense distress. His com had to have been taken when he was captured, it stood to reason. He would have no reason to even look for it until now. He never called anyone, and no one ever called him. 

Obi-wan stomped into his bedroom again, clawing a few garments off of the floor and dressing himself. He began to head towards the front door, and paused. His chest was heaving, his ribs were complaining terribly, and bruises still covered his face. His mind burned with the imminence of what he had seen, the horror of it carved fresh into his consciousness. 

Obi-wan retreated to his bedroom again, pacing the floor twice before he threw one of his dresser drawers open- the one that held his lightsaber. All this time he never once left his apartment with it in hand. He supposed it was risky to leave it unattended. If someone were to break in and use it on others, all the blood spilled would be on his hands. Even still, carrying it seemed a heavier burden. That weapon was tied to a part of his life he thought was more likely than not, over. 

But apparently that assumption was wrong. After staring into the drawer for a moment Obi-wan took the saber in his damp trembling palm and clipped it to his belt before he strode back to the front door, which was hopelessly crumpled up on its track. With little patience to ease it open, Obi-wan let out a blast of force energy on its surface, punching it straight out of its frame and out into the hall. 

Going to the closest door where he sensed there was someone inside to answer, he gave a loud short knock. “Hello?” Obi-wan called out, still frantic. 

“Go away.” The voice shouted from the other side. 

“I’m sorry, I just need to borrow your com link for one minute its an emergency.” Obi-wan insisted. 

“Can’t help ya pal.” The voice shouted back. 

Obi-wan contemplated kicking the door in and commandeering the com link by force, but thought better of it. With an aggravated sigh he went to the next door. Before his knuckles could meet with the cold steel, the sudden thunderous roar of a blast sounded out followed by another series of explosions. 

He could tell they were close, and his heart slammed desperately against his ribs as he reached out for Anakin’s presence. Obi-wan felt ill when he sensed only emptiness where his former Padawan might have been. Breaking into a cold sweat, he rushed to the lift, taking it to the top street exit as quickly as possible. 

In the short ride that felt entirely too long, Obi-wan attempted to collect himself. This was the first hint of true danger since he had taken the Barash. All of those nights he spent hoping to feel useful, wanting to be needed. Now he felt a flash of resentment for wishing for anything of the sort. What if he wasn’t able to make it in time? What if he arrived just soon enough to see Anakin die before his eyes? 

“No,” Obi-wan mumbled to himself, shaking his head briskly, running a hand down the length of his face. Now wasn’t the time to start thinking that way. 

The doors to the lift opened up, and immediately Obi-wan could taste the bitterness in the air from the blast. The scream of sirens wailed in the distance as a column of dark smoke rose from where the Senate rotunda was located. If it had been the recycling plant, it would have been several levels lower, and closer. 

Obi-wan felt a rush of encouraging adrenaline flood his veins. He reached out for Anakin again, sensing that he wasn’t dead, but simply very far away. It was often that way in war time. Now Obi-wan wondered how many times Anakin had faced such certain danger before, not wanting to know the answer. 

It was the pitfall of attachment, he knew. It was dangerous to get so close. It clouded one's judgement, made you sloppy. It stole away your objectivity, made you more prone to making poor calls. Obi-wan willed himself to let go of it for the moment. He supposed it would always be that way, putting aside how he felt for the sake of the present. It would always be something to wrestle with, he knew it wasn’t going away. Even after all this time without laying eyes on Anakin, his feelings hadn’t dulled.

Freeing up enough mental space and energy to try and think clearly, Obi-wan headed for the next turbolift that would take him to the lower levels. Once he was close enough he leapt from the platform, hurling down in a tight roll till he landed in a crouching position. A few onlookers gasped as he rose back up and started towards the recycling plant that lie at the heart of the district. He paid them no mind. He was done hiding now, he no longer needed to pretend he was something he wasn’t. 

Part of himself was furious that he had allowed himself to wallow for so long. How could he protect anyone from such a distance? He tried to tell himself he was close enough, and he even believed it for a time. He didn’t think he could believe it anymore. Not for one more second.


End file.
